


Even Super-Villains Do It

by wanderingoverthewords



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angry Sex, Aphrodisiacs, Begging, Blood, Blow Jobs, Cock Worship, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Frottage, Knifeplay, M/M, Masochism, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rough Sex, Sadism, Sex Pollen, Spitroasting, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2019-07-25 21:29:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 42,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16206026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderingoverthewords/pseuds/wanderingoverthewords
Summary: (Not-so)Kinktober challenge, using Scriddler as the muse.





	1. Deep Throating

**Author's Note:**

> Characters: Jonathan Crane/Scarecrow, Edward Nygma; mentioned Query, Echo, Batman and Selina Kyle.
> 
> Pairing: Jonathan Crane/Edward Nygma.
> 
> Warnings: NSFW content, theft; mentions of killing and kidnapping.
> 
> Notes: Decided to take up the Kinktober challenge with my boys. I’m very much late because, to be honest, I didn’t know this was a thing. But, hey - learn something new everyday. Prompt responses will range from drabbles to full-on fics, depending on where the inspiration takes me. 
> 
> All material belongs to DC Comics (although, my interpretations of the characters are used). 
> 
> Extra summary: Edward comes back on an emotional high after a heist; Jonathan gets to reap the rewards.
> 
> Extra notes: Canonically, this one is my Scriddler’s first sexual encounter, so, hey…have fun with that.
> 
> Day One: Deep Throating

 

Edward was humming a cheery tune as he entered he and Jonathan’s shared abode, taking the back door rather than the front due to the fact the GCPD were currently looking for him. Gone out on a little art collection; the museum had recently picked up a work that was just the right shade of green to catch Edward’s eye. It would look fabulous on the wall above the television.

Painting covered with a sheet and tucked under his arm, he shut the sliding glass door behind him as he waltzed into the living room, still dressed in full Riddler garb (minus the shoes, which he took the time to put away after carrying them in). Query and Echo were seeing to it that the Riddler’s prized limousine got back to storage safely; there would be hell to pay if any of the Bat’s army were to put so much as a dent in that car. His beloved girls were the only ones he’d trust to care for it, and not just because he paid them well enough for them to actually _want_ to do a good job.

Jonathan didn’t look up as he came in, not even jumping from his sudden appearance; a lack of fear would do that to someone. Too engrossed in a book to do so much as spare Edward a glance. At least he was out of the basement; by all means, this was an improvement. And he had done it all by himself! Definitely heading in the right direction.

“Evening, dear,” Edward said, chipper, with a spring in his step as he headed straight for the flat-screen television opposite the sofa Jonathan was sitting on.

Acknowledging Jonathan’s grunt of a greeting by widening his smile just a little, Edward uncovered the painting and carefully leaned over the television to hang the canvas on the little hook he’d already nailed into the wall. With a few tilts to make sure the painting was straight, his tongue sticking out of his mouth with the effort, Edward had completed the overall aesthetic of his living room, and quite happily clasped his gloved hands together as a result.

“Perfect!” He exclaimed, smile now a grin, and he turned to Jonathan. “Well? What do you think?”

Jonathan’s brown eyes flicked their gaze from his page to the painting. He stared for a moment, clearly uncaring, then nodded once. “…It’s nice. Suits the room.”

Honestly, coming from Jonathan, that wasn’t saying much. The man had no taste in furniture or décor, considering the bombsite of a shack he’d lived in before moving in with his lover, and Edward knew full and well he was just saying what Edward wanted to hear so he would leave Jonathan to read, but the fact he’d replied at all meant something, and Edward bounced on the balls of his feet.

“It does, doesn’t it? The perfect shade of Riddler green - I told you, dear, it’s like they made it specifically for me!”

“Mm.”

“‘Gotham in Green’ - it’s like they were _begging_ me to take it.” Edward shook his head. He supposed he could appreciate the artistic exploration in switching Gotham’s colour scheme, trying to make it less of a hellhole than it actually was in real life, but what did they think would happen to their precious canvas when there was a villain like the Riddler running around?

If there came a news report tomorrow about the stolen painting which featured a crying artist, Edward would shake his head, laugh and say ‘I told you so’.

Hands on his hips, Edward admired the painting some more, tilting his head this way and that, the buzz of a successful heist running through his veins. It was an addictive feeling, one that often led to him pulling off more crimes than he knew what to do with, one that was worth all the running around and sweating into his expensive clothes and the occasional black eye, busted lip, missing tooth or broken bone inflicted upon him by the Batman. All of the Rogues could agree on that; it was one of the few things they _did_ agree upon.

Inhaling deeply through his nose, taking in the sense of adrenaline that was still making his heart pump madly, Edward thought about what to do with the rest of this energy. He could spend it polishing his next round of riddles or perhaps he could go and see about finishing a few more mechanical projects or…or…

Well. When he, Query and Echo finished off a successful heist, they would celebrate in a variety of ways. Drinking, partying, a luscious round of incredibly kinky sex (he and Query would, anyway; Echo was a lesbian, but still very happy to sit and watch from the sidelines, cheering and occasionally helping tease Edward into the bliss of orgasm). The latter option was out of the picture now because…he had a boyfriend.

Lips curling in a sly grin, Edward slowly turned to look at Jonathan, who was back to ignoring him in favour of the text in his hands.

He and Jonathan hadn’t had sex yet. He’d wanted to, and he’d tried to coax Jonathan into more sensual states before, but the older male wasn’t having it. Edward hadn’t expected him to, to be honest; he was still drifting out of the mindset that Edward was nothing more than a colleague and still flinched away when Edward tried to hold his hand or cuddle him, casting an irritated and questioning glare at the Riddler before remembering their new situation and would, rather robotically, offer his hand to be held. Sex was clearly going to be too far out of his comfort zone right now, but that was still a bridge that would have to be crossed; it was no secret the Riddler loved sex, and a relationship with no sex doth not a happy Riddler make.

It wasn’t like Jonathan was a virgin, either; he was quite indignant when Edward had implied, back when they disliked each other, that he’d never had sex. Wouldn’t elaborate, of course, but it was apparent Crane had had lovers. Not boyfriends, but lovers.

Edward was the _first_ boyfriend; as sad as it was that Crane had waited until the age of forty-four before acquiring one, the Riddler was awfully smug about being first in line.

Edward observed his partner for a moment before humming again, picking a slower tune this time as he pivoted on the ball of his foot and glided over to the couch, taking a seat down beside Jonathan, who didn’t react at all to his presence. Edward sat sideways on the couch, one leg bent and the other straight, head leaned on the cushions as he looked at Jonathan’s book, decided it to be boring, then slowly raised a gloved hand and pawed at the bare skin of Jonathan’s arm. “Jon…?”

Immediately, Jonathan flinched - a _dislike_ of being touched, not any fear of what Edward would do to him - and whipped his head around to look at him, frowning deeply in suspicion before his gaze softened slightly.

Edward supposed it could be a bit jarring, being in a relationship with someone you had despised a few years ago; water under the bridge now. Instead of insulting each other from their respective Arkham cells, they communicated respectfully, perhaps even lovingly, with words during daylight and Morse Code during nightfall. Even still, he hoped Jonathan grew out of this habit and trusted him completely soon.

“What?” Jonathan asked.

“I’m bored,” Edward continued pawing at his arm, stroking lightly at the ginger hairs there, inching closer to the folded roll of his flannel shirt’s sleeve, “so entertain me.”

Jonathan flicked his gaze to the hand on his arm, observing it closely. Clearly, he was at least partially understanding why Edward was doing it, for the way he sighed through his nose gave him away. Perhaps he didn’t get the sexual implications of Edward wanting his attention, but he definitely knew he was about to be asked to do the Riddler a favour, and that was never good. “…I suppose ya have somethin’ in mind?”

“As a matter of fact, I do.” Edward tilted his head. “But it _would_ require you to put down the book.”

Jonathan sniffed and returned his gaze to his pages. “Then it doesn’t interest me, sorry.”

Edward’s grin very quickly and very fluidly slid into his classic look of displeasure: eyebrows raised, lips pursed, mask-covered eyes half-lidded with a look of _‘who do you think you are?’._ Oh, he was all for trying a gentle approach with getting Crane’s attention, but only if it worked. Clearly, it didn’t, so a more assertive approach was needed.

In a second, he’d pinched the spine of Jonathan’s book, snatched it from his grasp, slammed it shut and thrown it across the room, all before Jonathan could say, “Ed, no, it’s a library book.” (Which he wasn’t _planning_ on giving back, but the thought was there.)

For a few seconds, Jonathan barely reacted, hands still poised in their holding positions, gaze still locked where he’d last been reading, then a long, loud sigh was given through his nose and his hands dropped to his lap, head tilting back and eyes shutting as he took a breath to calm himself. Once he was content, he turned his head to look at Edward, who was now propping up his chin with one hand, elbow pressed back into the couch, innocent little smile on his face.

Bastard.

“…Really?” Jonathan asked, deadpanned.

Edward nodded twice.

Jonathan sighed through his nose again, turning his head away to take another breath to calm himself. In his lap, his fingers curled into fists, but - to his credit - he kept them there. “…What is it you want, Edward? Make it quick, now. Dr. Crane doesn’t like ta be bothered.”

Resisting the urge to make an obvious, crude joke, Edward grinned. “I’ll show you.” With that, he gracefully slid into Jonathan’s lap, knees perched either side of his hips as Edward straddled him, wrists resting on his shoulders and hands hanging behind his neck.

Immediately, Jonathan pressed himself backwards into the couch cushions, suspicion and creeping realisation laced within his features. He made no move to shove Edward off or deny him of what he wanted, so Edward took that as a sign to continue his advances.

With a delicate curl of a smile upon his lips, Edward gave Jonathan a half-lidded look before leaning in and gently kissing Jonathan’s jaw, earning himself a sharp inhale and stiffened body language (not the kind he would’ve liked, however).

One hand suddenly flew up, palm facing Edward’s arm, and Edward froze as he realised this was Jonathan’s natural instinct to push him off kicking in…only for the good doctor to freeze himself, then slowly put the hand back down.

Elation made Edward’s heartbeat sky rocket and he grinned in delight before peppering a few more little kisses along Jonathan’s jaw, following it down to his chin, where he placed another kiss. After that, he lifted his head to meet Jonathan’s gaze.

Jonathan was staring at him, clearly uncertain, and Edward thought he looked adorable.

“Get it?” Edward asked cheekily, giving a little wiggle of his hips, which made Jonathan inhale again and look down at them briefly.

“…I do,” Jonathan replied.

“And what do you think of it?”

Exactly where was the line that he could cross with just one wrong move? Where was it that Jonathan’s comforts laid? It was clear from the start that there would be no penetration tonight - look at him, Jonathan barely wanted Edward touching him, let alone having his cock in Edward’s backend - but perhaps something else? Hands, mouths, even just a few risqué words might’ve done it.

“…I’m not entirely certain,” Jonathan ultimately decided was his answer. He bit his lip as he thought about it, incisor teeth pressing down upon the bottom half of the scar that ran vertically through his mouth.

Understandable; this was a new area. It was one thing to go out and find someone to stick his dick into for the night, it was another to have sex with someone he had once hated, much less thought of as only a mere colleague. It was a big step and - though he wasn’t voicing it, and wouldn’t be, for the sake of staying away from too much sentimentality - Edward was proud of Jonathan for getting even this far.

“Well,” Edward leaned in, so close he could see every emotion in Jonathan’s eyes, could feel the heat radiating off of his face, and his lips brushed Jonathan’s as he spoke, “you know how to say ‘no’, don’t you?”

With that, Edward pressed a searing kiss to Jonathan’s mouth before he leaned down to his neck, kissing the pale skin of his throat, parting his lips to give a gentle nip to his Adam’s apple, to which Jonathan flinched again. Touching and biting were different things, it was understandable for him to react to that too, but he wasn’t saying no nor pushing Edward away, so Edward went on by peppering kisses across Jonathan’s throat, moving his way around to the right side of the column.

From here, Edward’s kisses became open-mouthed, giving gentle sucks to the skin, which made Jonathan wiggle underneath him. The action made Edward smirk; it hadn’t been of discomfort. With that in mind, Edward slid his gloved hands up Jonathan’s shoulders and into his hair, running his fingers through it, gently brushing his scalp to help relax him.

It did the trick; he felt the tension in Jonathan’s shoulders leave. _Something to file away for later,_ Edward thought. Who knew Jonathan Crane liked having his hair petted? Edward did, now.

He indulged the older man, pulling his mouth away from Jonathan’s neck and raising his head to smile sweetly, taking a moment away from the heated situation to treat himself to the sight of Jonathan relaxing.

His eyes were shut, a noise coming from his closed lips that was half a breath and half a purr; he almost looked feline-like, and Edward chortled at it.

Immediately, Jonathan’s eyes flew open and, embarrassed about getting caught, he frowned tightly. With no warning nor hesitation, he flew forward and pressed a hard kiss to Edward’s lips, if only out of need to do _something,_ earning himself a surprised half-yelp from the Riddler.

Despite the surprise, Edward immediately caved, closing his eyes and setting one hand on Jonathan’s chest to gradually push him back on the couch, his other hand still in the doctor’s rust-coloured hair, now holding the back of his head to push their mouths closer together, deepening the kiss.

Their mouths moved together, kisses broken and reinstated immediately after, and at some point, Edward found it easy to slip his tongue into Jonathan’s mouth, which was met with no resistance whatsoever. Funny how Crane had no problem swapping spit with the Riddler when he was so against Edward casually touching him, but he supposed anyone could forget things in the throes of passion, even age-old suspicion of humanity. French kissing was something to build up to, after all, while touching Jonathan’s arm or trying to hold his hand was quite sudden. All in all, somewhat understandable, though Edward would be calling him out on it later.

Tongues swirled together in a dance that Jonathan led; luckily for Edward, it was nowhere near the violent dancing Jonathan called his fighting style, though it wasn’t exactly gentle either. Fine and well by Edward’s standards, he liked a bit of roughness. When Jonathan massaged his tongue with his own, Edward let out a small moan of content, hand rising from Jonathan’s chest to cup his right cheek.

That got Jonathan to tilt his head up slightly, allowing for better access to his mouth, and Edward nipped at Jonathan’s bottom lip before breaking their fervour kissing to return his mouth to Jonathan’s neck. Knowing that Jonathan was more comfortable now, his kisses there became slightly rougher, his sucking at Jonathan’s skin now audible, delivering little nibbles to leave marks. He was slightly concerned Jonathan would draw the line there, but no, the older man actually tilted his head to allow him more space to work. Edward almost squealed in delight.

As he went on mouthing Jonathan’s neck, his hands slid down from his head, running down his chest, smoothing over his pectorals, before they reached the hem of the dark grey t-shirt he wore under his open flannel shirt. After a moment of lingering, he pushed his fingers underneath the t-shirt, allowing his hands to slide up the skin of Jonathan’s tummy in their ascent.

Here, he felt Jonathan stiffen again, but he made no move to push Edward’s hands away, so Edward let his hands climb up Jonathan’s stomach, his mouth still attached to the skin of Jonathan’s neck, currently creating another small hickey. Edward’s hands rose until the tips of his gloved fingers brushed the underside of Jonathan’s nipples and Jonathan suddenly jumped, leaning himself forward with a look of surprise on his face.

Removing his mouth from Jonathan’s neck, Edward leaned back to smirk. “Sensitive, are we?”

Jonathan glared in response.

Chuckling at him, Edward returned to his task, pushing his hands just a bit further up to brush the pads of his fingers over Jonathan’s nipples, earning himself a sharp inhale through the nose, and Edward grinned into the space between Jonathan’s shoulder and neck. Another fact to file away for later. Would it be pushing his luck to perhaps tweak them? To test, Edward did so, taking his nipples betwixt index fingers and thumbs and gently pinching.

From deep within Jonathan’s throat came a sound, muffled by his persistently shut lips. It wasn’t a sound of discontent, but rather…a moan.

Edward’s heart soared; he’d done it! Mission accomplished!

Jonathan was clearly aware of Edward’s silent celebration, for he stiffened again, and Edward could practically feel the blush on his face from here.

“If it makes you feel any better, dear,” Edward said, face still hiding in the crevice between neck and shoulder, “I’m the same.” He raised his head only to wink (and, if he was honest, he was curious about what Jonathan looked like when he blushed; delightfully tomato-like was his answer).

With the answers he wanted received, Edward slid his hands out from under Jonathan’s t-shirt and went for the collar of his flannel shirt, sticking up as normal. He held the corners in between his first fingers and thumbs and slowly began to peel the shirt back, exposing just a bit more of Jonathan’s skin for him to work with, until the shirt was off of Jonathan’s shoulders.

His partner had stiffened again; removing clothes was still hot water, it seemed, and Edward hesitated for a moment to see if Jonathan would stop him. When he didn’t, Edward set about gently pushing Jonathan’s flannel shirt down his arms until the older man had to lift his hands from his sides to allow the sleeves to be removed from his arms entirely. The shirt was bunched up behind Jonathan’s back, as he hadn’t lifted himself to allow for it to be put aside, but that was good enough for Edward.

Mouthing at the skin exposed by removing Jonathan’s flannel, Edward’s hands slid back down Jonathan’s chest and tummy, and where one remained on the flat of Jonathan’s stomach, the other descended down to the front of his jeans, where fingers applied a small bit of pressure as they rubbed slow circles.

Just like when Edward had touched his chest, Jonathan jumped, inhaling sharply and much more audibly than before. He tensed completely, one hand closing around the corner of a couch cushion and squeezing, and Edward immediately stopped and raised his head.

“Are you alright?” Edward asked.

Jonathan blinked slowly, considering this, then nodded twice.

Smiling amusedly, Edward said, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Jonathan raised his gaze to meet Edward’s, glaring sharply. “You’d be a fool ta try.”

Edward chuckled. “I know,” he replied in a sing-song tone, rolling his eyes with a smile, then he wrapped his arms around Jonathan’s neck and his tone and expression grew more firm. “In all seriousness, are you alright with this? You really can say no if you’re not, I won’t hold it against you.”

Jonathan stared for a moment, then cocked his head. “You seem genuinely concerned.”

Edward frowned in response. “Well - _yes…!_ I’m a master criminal, Jon, but I’m not a _monster._ Good _grief_ \- is that what you really think of me?”

Jonathan opened his mouth to make some witty remark that Edward had killed, kidnapped and stolen in the past, but he recognised this probably wasn’t the type of moment for such wit. Edward was really making an effort here and he was clearly offended by the implication that he would ever be some sort of sex offender, so Jonathan closed his mouth, then replied, “No. I’m just aware you enjoy stuff like this. I never figured you’d take the…smooth and slow route, is all.”

“For a first time, yes. I’m not going to lie, Jon, I do want to hurry up a bit; I’ve wanted this for a while, you see. Even before we were dating, in fact - oh, don’t give me that _look._ It was simple curiosity, and you aren’t special; I’ve felt the same toward all the Rogues.”

Jonathan only looked more disturbed; Edward hoped he hadn’t just killed whatever arousal Jonathan might’ve felt. “You’ve felt _lust_ …toward _all_ of the Rogues?”

Edward shrugged and waved a hand in the air as he explained, “Lustful curiosity, is what I like to call it. A simple wonder of what you’re all like in bed. If you know what people are like when they orgasm, you know everything about them, quite frankly, and there’s no information that the Riddler doesn’t want. How do you think Selina and I once got onto the topic of your sexuality?”

Jonathan wrinkled his nose.

“Besides, did you know that people are more likely to reveal their secrets after sex? It’s to do with -”

“I’m aware of it, yes,” Jonathan interrupted him, prompting Edward to frown. Before Edward could complain or think of continuing what he said, Jonathan asked strictly, “How many of the Rogues have ya conquered in yer little experiment, then, Edward?”

Edward’s frown fell, lips forming a perfect ‘o’ shape, his covered eyes widening in surprise, then they narrowed and he smirked smugly. “Now, _Jon,”_ he purred, tilting his head, “do you _really_ want to think about me getting ravished by another one of the Rogues right now?”

Jonathan’s expression immediately displayed his disgust. He was already revolted thinking of Edward with anyone else, it only made it worse to put another Rogue in that scenario.

“Didn’t think so.” Edward tilted his head the other way. “And don’t worry, dear, I haven’t even thought about it since we started our partnership.” He used one finger to stroke along Jonathan’s bottom lip. “I wouldn’t dare be unfaithful to you.”

“I’d sooner kill you,” Jonathan said quickly, almost a bark.

“And I you, dear. And I you.” Edward wrapped his arms around Jonathan’s neck again. “Now, I’ll ask again, since you didn’t answer me before: are you alright with this?”

Jonathan paused to consider it. Was he alright with this? He looked down at Edward’s lap, down at his own, and pondered. He wouldn’t want to be doing anything too much tonight, that much was certain. No getting naked, no rushing for the stairs, not any of that. But he couldn’t deny this was…appealing, if only a bit, and there’d been heat pooling in the spot under his stomach since Edward had groped at his chest. He supposed there was really no harm in continuing, so long as Edward understood limitations.

“…I’m alright with this,” Jonathan replied at last, hands rising slowly until they set upon Edward’s hips, and Edward grinned in utter delight.

Rather quickly did Edward descend upon him, capturing his lips in a firm kiss, and Jonathan immediately reciprocated. It was the return of their fervour kissing from earlier, kisses deep and breathtaking, tongues almost immediately leaping back into their dance. With the knowledge that Jonathan was now comfortable with this, and that he was aware of Edward’s desire to speed things up a bit, Edward took the time to move his hips, first pushing back against Jonathan’s hands - which in itself prompted Jonathan to rub circles in with his thumbs - then grinding down into Jonathan’s lap, which brought more sharp inhales from the man.

It was almost embarrassing how aroused Edward was already - Jonathan could just about feel it when Edward pressed their chests together to deepen their kissing, which by now was becoming more rushed - but one could suppose that made sense when he was the one who wanted so badly to jump into the sack. It wasn’t as if Jonathan was feeling nothing anyway; at some point in Edward’s grinding, he felt Jonathan raise his hips to meet him halfway, both men having to lightly pant through their noses amidst their kissing.

So much focus was put upon Jonathan’s limitations that none of given to Edward’s, and his came as he broke the kissing and stopped the grinding, lips reddened from their enthusiasm. With a heated look Jonathan’s way (which was sadly lessened from the fact Edward was still wearing his domino mask), Edward slid backwards to get out of his straddling position, planting kisses to Jonathan’s chin, throat and chest as he made his way down his boyfriend’s body, stopping finally when he reached Jonathan’s stomach.

The older man’s blush flared up spectacularly fast upon seeing the Riddler kneeling on the floor between his legs, especially since he was smirking at him so.

With one gloved hand, Edward resumed the circling massage he’d applied to Jonathan’s crotch earlier, only to draw a whimper - an actual _whimper_ \- from the man’s shut mouth. It only made Edward’s smirk widen, he could feel how much Jonathan had gotten into it, and with his heart pounding in anticipation, Edward reached for Jonathan’s belt buckle.

He cast his gaze upwards. “May I?”

Jonathan stared for a moment, clearly trying to get himself under control. Between the embarrassment over the whimper and the arousal taking place, combined with the confliction that the _Riddler_ was offering him oral sex and how _unprofessional_ this was, he really had to take that moment. Felt like there was something inside him screaming (or maybe that was just Scarecrow). After a moment, he took a breath, then used his hands to push himself upwards, lifting himself off of the seat. “Yes.”

Grinning, Edward undid his belt, then went for the button on his jeans. Unzipping the fly, he opened them, reaching in to rub Jonathan through his blue boxers, making Jonathan shut his eyes and hum through his closed lips, a muffled moan, his fingers curling against the couch cushions. It only got worse when Edward leaned forward and kissed his tip, chuckling when Jonathan let out another whimper.

Edward rubbed him until he was completely hard and probably wishing for freedom from his confines, until Jonathan’s arms were shaking and struggling to hold him up any longer. The Riddler quite happily pulled Jonathan’s jeans down to his ankles, teasing him by delivering a slow kiss to his covered erection again, then, with a delighted smile, he pulled Jonathan’s boxers down to join his jeans.

He’d never seen below Jonathan’s belt before; his mouth actually fell open.

He was… _big,_ to put it plainly. If Edward had seen this a few years ago, he probably wouldn’t have made those jokes about Jonathan’s virginity. He didn’t just have impressive girth, he had impressive _length,_ uncircumcised and reddening from needed release. It was almost unfair for someone so disinterested in sex to be so well-endowed.

Edward looked up at Jonathan slowly, only to receive a very deadpanned look in return.

With a shrug, Jonathan said, “I’m a shower.”

Edward could’ve cried then and there. He suddenly had an urge to join a church and pray to whatever deity had delivered this gift to him, just to express his thanks. He actually mouthed the ‘thank you’. It only made him more excited to move on, not just to give the oral sex, but to future sessions where, hopefully, Jonathan would take him; _this_ scarecrow was well-hung, and Edward couldn’t _wait_ for him to plough his field.

Edward smiled widely, unbelieving of his luck, and directed another heated look up at Jonathan before reaching forward, running a finger down the shaft. Receiving yet another sharp intake of breath, Edward leaned back and pointedly removed his gloves, pinching the middle fingertips and sliding the leather from his fingers. He put them together and set them beside Jonathan’s hip, then reached forward again to wrap the fingers of his right hand around the length before him.

Jonathan shifted at the touch, especially now that it was Edward’s skin touching his, and stared intently as Edward leaned in and pressed a trail of searing kisses down the inside of Jonathan’s right thigh, all the while stroking the underside of his cock with his thumb.

He gave Jonathan a half-lidded stare back, which - despite Edward’s eyes being covered by his mask - apparently got Jonathan flustered enough to look away from him, his face lighting up red. Edward smirked, removing his lips from Jonathan’s thigh and shuffling forward slightly, then he moved his thumb and pressed a kiss to the space which he’d been stroking beforehand. He eyed Jonathan as he did so; however possible, the man’s face reddened even more.

Edward chortled quietly, cracked his neck, then cleared his throat to prepare himself before leaning in, pressing kisses up the side of Jonathan’s shaft. As he did so, his hand pumped him, achingly slow, making Jonathan give a little shuffle. When Edward reached the base, he kissed around it to get to the other side of his shaft, then ascended it with another trail of kisses, swapping his right hand for his left. Thumb circling the head of his cock, Edward sucked gently at the side of his shaft, making a small ‘o’ shape with his lips. Within the shape, his tongue stuck out a fraction to drag the very tip over the skin, then gave the gentlest of nibbles with the very edges of his teeth.

Jonathan sucked in a long breath. He felt no fear, so he didn’t exactly panic at feeling teeth on his cock. If anything, it only enticed him more and it - admittedly - did feel rather good. He was sure Edward would know the consequences for going too far.

Peppering kisses to the spot he’d nibbled, Edward brushed the tip of his thumb over the hole of his cock; for a millisecond, the edge of his nail dug into the head and he felt Jonathan flinch slightly. Kisses were trailed up from that one spot on the side of his shaft, then Edward sent Jonathan a smirk, only to see he still wasn’t looking at him.

Frowning slightly, Edward pointedly cleared his throat.

Jonathan’s gaze flicked down to him, unsure and curious, and he got a good look at the way the tip of his cock disappeared into Edward’s mouth. It drew out what he was ashamed to acknowledge was a whine, but at least it was muffled by his ever-persistent shut lips. It certainly didn’t help that Edward was looking him in the eye, either.

Smirking around the head of his lover’s erection, Edward sucked lightly, resuming his slow pumping of the shaft with his right hand. He followed a vein on the underside with his thumb as he gave a deliberately exaggerated moan around Jonathan’s cock, which Jonathan felt more than he heard, then sucked harder on the head before taking more of the length into his mouth.

While his right hand was busy with its slow pumping, his left trailed down to Jonathan’s testicles (which were also fairly impressive, now that Edward was paying attention; it really was unfair), where he gently rubbed circles into one with his thumb. Deciding to investigate further, since he hadn’t stared them down like he’d done with Jonathan’s cock, Edward removed his lips from the tip of his lover’s erection and moved them down to the testicle he’d stroked, running the tip of his tongue over it before sucking on it gently.

Jonathan let out something of a mewl; he wasn’t a very vocal lover, by all means, though Edward was aware he was attempting to hide his sounds. It was alright, Edward would coax them out of him sooner or later; he did, however, wish Jonathan wouldn’t be so ashamed.

After applying the same treatment to the other one, Edward trailed kisses up Jonathan’s cock, which twitched as he did so, and Jonathan let out a noise in his throat that Edward recognised from the days they hated each other: he was getting impatient. _Someone_ clearly wanted Edward to suck his cock, and someone would be getting just that.

Fun was over; Edward took him into his mouth, going halfway before stopping, his tongue lavishing the half he had taken in, massaging along that vein and over the little hole enough that Jonathan let out one of his muffled moans. It was intense enough, however, that Jonathan raised a hand and covered his mouth with it.

Seeing this, Edward removed his mouth from Jonathan’s cock and reached up to take his wrist and move his hand away. “Ah, ah, ahhh. None of that, please. Only one of us is going to have his mouth covered, and it isn’t going to be you.”

Jonathan’s brow furrowed, thoroughly flustered, but went along with it despite his own wishes.

Triumphant, Edward leaned down and took the length into his mouth again, lapping at it with his tongue and purposefully moaning around it, pumping the half he didn’t take in with his hand, at a quicker pace than before. Once his hand settled into a steady rhythm that was fast enough to keep Jonathan content and slow enough not to let him cum straight away, Edward began bobbing his head, following the rhythm of his hand and acting alongside it; when his hand went down, he went up and when he went down, his hand went up to meet him.

It earned him another lovely little whine, to which he smirked around his mouthful, then he quickened the pace of his hand while keeping his bobbing the same, lapping at the tip when he pulled his lips back up his dick. While his right hand tended to the pumping, his left returned to Jonathan’s testicles to play with them, rubbing circles in with his thumb, massaging with his fingers, occasionally poking with the very edges of his nails.

All the sounds he was getting now were still muffled; Edward opened one eye to look up at Jonathan amidst his bobbing, only to find Jonathan had shut his eyes at some point, shoulders raised and tense as he tried hard to keep his noises to himself. Perturbed by this, Edward made a decision.

The pumping came to a stop and Edward removed the hand, using it instead to prod at Jonathan’s thigh to get his attention.

One brown eye opened to check on him, clearly hesitant; the sight alone made him want to cry out, never mind the administrations, and he really didn’t want to be vocal.

Edward wasn’t giving him a choice, however, for he made sure he was watching before he straightened up slightly, rising better on his knees, then proceeded to take the full length of Jonathan’s cock into his mouth. His nose came to meet the patch of ginger hair trailing from Jonathan’s crotch to his belly button and he felt the tip travel to his throat; it was a good thing Edward had had such practise over the years, otherwise he might’ve gagged right off of his cock.

That did it; Edward could suss that Jonathan had never had a man take him right into his throat before, for the look on his face was rather priceless. The way his eyes bugged out of their sockets, his mouth immediately falling open, either to protest to such actions against Edward’s poor throat or to call out an expletive in surprise; it betrayed him in the moment, though, for whatever the reason he originally opened his mouth was lost to him, and Jonathan tilted his head back and moaned into the air.

Edward’s eyes lit up beneath his mask; he’d done it once more! Another mission accomplished!

Feeling humoured and wanting to tease him a little bit more, Edward slid his lips off of Jonathan’s erection, pumping slowly with his hand again as he raised an eyebrow and asked cheekily, “Never been deep-throated before, Jon?”

Jonathan swallowed thickly, beginning to sweat, and shook his head.

“You poor thing.” Edward smirked and chuckled, then leaned down to resume, only for Jonathan to reach out and stop him with a hand on his shoulder. Confused, Edward looked up at him.

“Take that stupid thing off o’ yer face,” Jonathan commanded.

Edward smirked again. “You want to stare into my gorgeous, green eyes while I pleasure you, doctor?” He raised a hand, putting the tips of his fingers under his chin, the back of his hand tilted toward his cheek. “You old romantic.”

Jonathan frowned, clearly unamused with the teasing. “No. Yer jus’ making me think of the Bat right now, and it’s really not doin’ it for me.”

Edward’s smirk dropped, displeased and a little uncomfortable. He really hoped Jonathan wasn’t seriously admitting he was imagining Batman doing that, otherwise they’d have to have a little talk. Nevertheless, he reached up and peeled his domino mask off of his face, revealing his green eyes, and set it on the arm of the couch.

Casting a cheeky look at Jonathan, he tilted his head. “Better?”

Jonathan didn’t reply, only back-handed Edward’s bowler hat from his head; the thing went flying off onto the floor, rolling a few centimetres before falling upside-down.

The classic look of the displeased Riddler was back. “Careful,” Edward chided, “I like that hat.”

Jonathan grunted and raised a hand, curled his fingers twice in hesitation, then he reached out and put his hand on the back of Edward’s head, fingers disappearing into his hair and grasping loosely at strands. He applied a bit of pressure, clearly trying to bring Edward’s mouth back to his cock, and with the index finger of his other hand, he pointed back and forth between his erection and Edward’s face. “Do…Do that again.”

Edward smiled innocently, despite the request, and put a hand to his chest. “As you wish, doctor.” He cleared his throat to prepare himself, then leaned down to swallow him again, holding him steady with one hand until his determination to return Jonathan’s entire length to his mouth forced his hand away. He made it with ease; the tip returned to his throat, his nose returned to the patch of rust-coloured hair, and one hand returned to Jonathan’s testicles to tease and massage.

A rather high-pitched noise left Jonathan’s throat and Edward almost laughed off of his cock, but kept himself firm as he slowly pulled off of the erection, beginning to bob his head at an agonisingly snail-like pace.

Jonathan’s grip on his hair was tightening; he shifted forward ever so slightly, almost catching Edward off-guard, following the warm, wet crevice that his cock seemed to occupy so perfectly.

Edward set a hand to Jonathan’s hip, both to steady him and in general to please him, stroking at the skin there with his thumb while his other thumb wrote riddles into Jonathan’s balls. He opened his eyes and looked up at Jonathan’s face, which was twisting with pleasure that he continued to try and keep covered up, and Edward chuckled around his cock before speeding up the pace of his bobbing, going back to the rhythm he’d had before.

Jonathan moaned lowly, his shaft scraping along the sides of Edward’s molars every so often as Edward angled his head differently to comfortably take Jonathan’s girth. By now, his fingers were curled into Edward’s hair, gripping tightly without meaning to, and he pulled when Edward hollowed his cheeks and allowed Jonathan’s tip to brush against one as he slid his lips down his cock.

For a moment, he was sure he’d displeased Edward further, as he knew full and well how much Edward hated having his neat, gelled-back style disrupted, but he didn’t get scolded. Rather, he got a lovely, deep moan that was muffled by his own erection, the sound glorious both to the ear and to the touch; it sent vibrations up his shaft and Jonathan tilted his head back to answer with his own groan before tugging at Edward’s hair again, digging his fingertips into the roots to tug harder.

It proved to excite Edward further, for he quickened the pace of his bobbing again, his sucking and the sliding of his lips becoming audible, and he moaned each time Jonathan pulled. He lapped at Jonathan’s cock like a thirsty dog at its first bowl of water, tasting pre-cum on his tongue, which only made him moan more.

It was a vicious cycle in the end, with Jonathan’s hair-pulling making Edward moan, the vibrations of which made Jonathan pull his hair harder and more suddenly, which only made Edward moan again. It got to the point that Jonathan was almost on the edge of the seat, desperately craving more of that mouth, and Edward’s bobbing had gotten fast, but he still remembered to take Jonathan’s length into his throat in such a way that satisfied the doctor and didn’t make him gag right off of him. How lucky Jonathan was to have such an experienced lover; big as Jonathan was, Edward still knew how to accommodate him.

At one point, amidst panting and soft groans, Jonathan prodded rapidly at Edward’s shoulder with his free hand. “Ed - Edward…I-I’m gonna…Ed? Yer not - Ohhh, _God…Ed…_ Jesus Christ - Ed, ya ain’t…y’ain’t listenin’ ta me…”

Oh, Edward was listening alright, and he was feeling smugger than ever. He could feel Jonathan’s cock twitching in his mouth, how tense he was getting, and it only made him take him faster.

“Ed, did - did ya hear me? I said I’m gonna…Ohhh, my _God.”_ He suddenly grabbed Edward’s hair even tighter, squeezing his fist around a clump and digging his nails into Edward’s scalp. “Fuck it, then…”

Edward could’ve made a joke that Jonathan had meant that literally, but his mouth was a little too preoccupied, and he let out a muffled yelp of surprise as Jonathan suddenly bucked his hips forward, thrusting into Edward’s mouth. The thrusts weren’t too rough nor too hard, it was more like he was bouncing in his seat, but it still made the tip of his cock collide with the back of Edward’s throat so suddenly that Edward’s gag reflex began to kick in and he pushed at Jonathan’s hips to get him to back off a bit.

Jonathan clearly didn’t pay much attention; while his thrusts did soften a bit more, he still kept going, bucking into the wet, hot mouth of Edward Nygma, fingers curled deeply into his dark brown hair, effectively fucking his mouth.

Edward rather happily let him. He’d waited long enough to have sex with Jonathan Crane, and here Jonathan was, finally getting into it. Fuck it - he could do whatever he _wanted._

Edward continued lapping at him the best he could, sucking at his cock as it pushed into his mouth. While he kept one hand on Jonathan’s hip to help steady him, he continued to massage his balls with the other, putting further pressure on them to help Jonathan get to the finish line.

It did help; after a few more seconds of thrusting, Jonathan gave one last, big buck of his hips before his head tilted back as he groaned. He emptied himself directly into Edward’s throat, who - while surprised at how sudden it’d been - swallowed it with relative ease. When he was milked dry, Jonathan fell backwards onto the couch, back hitting the cushions, slumped as he hadn’t bothered to sit back correctly. Eyes half-lidded, shoulders fallen, sweat glistening on his forehead as he panted, he’d been effectively finished off.

Edward licked him clean, then slid his lips off of him with a pop and pulled his boxers up his legs. He patted Jonathan’s hip to tell him to move up for him and it took a few seconds of waiting before Jonathan found the last bit of energy to lift himself up, allowing for Edward to pull his underwear up into place, tucking him in casually and patting his crotch when he was done.

Jonathan flopped back onto the couch, still panting softly, then he raised his head and looked down at Edward. “…D’you swallow that?”

“Of course I did,” Edward replied, still knelt between his thighs. “What do you take me for, a quitter?”

Jonathan made a noise that was of neither agreement nor disagreement.

“You poor thing, look at you.” Edward shook his head, tutting. “Never been deep-throated, clearly never had a man swallow. What kind of men did you used to sleep with?”

Jonathan took a moment to catch his breath before replying, “…None that I cared ta experiment with…or remember the names of…”

Edward only tutted more. “No wonder you’re so inexperienced. Well, don’t worry,” he smirked smugly and rested his chin on Jonathan’s thigh, “Eddie’s here now. He’s going to make it all better, and teach you a few new moves along the way. Ha! To think, you were going to pick _reading_ over this, eh?”

Jonathan grunted, eyes sliding shut as he calmed himself down from the ferocity of his orgasm. Admittedly, that had been the best blowjob he’d ever had, and it was given to him by the _Riddler,_ of all people. He could still remember the days he’d told Edward to go fuck himself whenever he so much as looked at Jonathan wrong - now look at him! _He_ was fucking him!

That reminded him of something; his eyes flicked open and he leaned forward to look down at Edward’s own crotch. There was still a tent in the front of his trousers, perhaps even a slightly darkened patch from any pre-cum, but nothing terribly incriminating. “…Have you…Did you finish too?”

Edward looked down at his trousers. Besides some feather-light touches here and there, he’d neglected his own erection for the sake of caring for Jonathan’s. Look at him, being so selfless; Jonathan really was lucky to have such a handsome, kind, generous lover like himself. He hoped Jonathan was aware of that. “No, I didn’t.”

“Good.”

Edward blinked and lifted his head to ask questions, only for his tie to be snatched up in a similar grip his hair had been in, and he let out a surprised yelp as he was suddenly pulled upwards and forced off of his knees, where his mouth was suddenly crushed against Jonathan’s. Getting over the initial shock that, yes, Jonathan Crane really _was_ taking charge right now (and rather aggressively too, while he was at it, which was just a bonus in Edward’s book), Edward smirked into the kiss and happily threw his arms around Jonathan’s neck.

Seemed like it was time for Jonathan to return the favour and, considering the way he was already cupping Edward’s cock through his trousers, he was _more_ than ready to do so.


	2. Begging

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kinktober challenge, using Scriddler as the muse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Jonathan Crane, Edward Nygma.
> 
> Pairing: Jonathan Crane/Edward Nygma.
> 
> Warnings: NSFW content
> 
> Notes: Decided to take up the Kinktober challenge with my boys. I’m very much late because, to be honest, I didn’t know this was a thing. But, hey - learn something new everyday. Prompt responses will range from drabbles to full-on fics, depending on where the inspiration takes me. 
> 
> All material belongs to DC Comics (although, my interpretations of the characters are used). 
> 
> Extra summary: Jonathan tends to view sex as a chore, something to make Edward happy - but one can always find a way to make chores fun, even when they’re not particularly trying.
> 
> Extra notes: Jon discovers another kink of his. Good for him.
> 
> Day Two: Begging

 

It didn’t take terribly long into their sex life for Edward to realise exactly what Jonathan thought of sex: it was a _chore._

Before Edward came along, Crane’s low sex drive meant he only slept with someone when his own primal urges crept up on him, when he got to that state where he couldn’t concentrate on his toxin anymore without some form of release. It was normal, typical, precise human nature, and he would remedy this feeling by sneaking out to a gay bar and going off with a random male for the night rather than handle the job himself. Never stayed, rarely ever used his real name (unless they recognised him right off the bat and - for whatever strange reason - were completely okay with fucking a known costumed criminal) and left as soon as he’d been satisfied, with little regard to whether or not the other man got to the finish line. Then he’d return to his little shack and carry on working like nothing happened.

Then he and Edward’s relationship had started, and neither sought one night stands anymore, completely faithful to the other. It’d been a bit of a wait before anything R-rated happened between them, due to Jonathan’s own philosophies on how he regarded people (aka, don’t fuck your colleagues, Jonny). Even when it did happen, it’d been a further wait before any penetration happened and when _that_ finally did, it became more regular.

The thing was, this wasn’t an advancement that they _both_ seemed to…care about.

It was always Edward that initiated, always Edward that took his lover by the hand and led him off to bed, always Edward who said a few risqué words to tell his partner exactly what he wanted without having to be too forward. Hell, there had come a time for Edward to test his theory on Jonathan’s views of sex, and he had done this by simply walking over to Jonathan (who was reading his newspaper at the kitchen table and eating a bit of toast) and very plainly telling him, “Jon, I want to have sex. Now, preferably.”

Jonathan had looked up at him, very clearly perturbed at being interrupted during his reading, but had nonetheless thought about it, then shrugged, finished off his toast in one quick bite and had brushed off his hands with a nod and a, “Okay, then.”

In some strange way, the fact that Jonathan had sex to make Edward happy was sweet, despite it coming from selfishness; Edward was fully aware Jonathan was only satisfying him so he would leave the ex-professor alone afterwards, as was the case with any favour Jonathan did for him. Merely a way to get Edward to shut up and leave him be. Worked out for the both of them, though; Jonathan got be alone afterwards and Edward got a cock in his backend. Everybody won.

All in all, sex was a mere chore, a hobby of Edward’s in which Jonathan faked more interest than he really had as to make his lover content. Edward’s narcissism meant he was quite okay with this; Jonathan _should’ve_ been bending to his every whim, sex included. He deserved to be pampered and treated well and he was glad Jonathan knew this, even if he had his own selfish reasons for doing so. Although, if he was honest with himself, he really did wish Jonathan would enjoy the sex as much as he did and not view it as something he _had_ to do rather than something he _wanted_ to do.

Like anyone carrying out a chore, he accomplished everything rather neutrally. He was content to be on the quieter end of the spectrum and he wasn’t keen on cuddling afterwards (though Edward blamed this on him being used to just leaving; he would work him toward snuggling and pillow talk soon enough). Everything really was done for Edward’s benefit; if Jonathan had any more kinks, neither man knew about them. If he had anything that drove him wild beyond recognition or control, both men had yet to discover it.

The only things Jonathan knew about himself from the start, regarding likes or dislikes in bed, were that he liked taking from behind (so he wouldn’t see the other bloke’s face), he liked holding his partner down by their wrists and that he did not like things going into his butt.

The only things Edward had managed to discover thus far were that Jonathan had sensitive nipples and liked having his cock sucked - but then, who didn’t?

Sex was a chore to Jonathan, a way to keep Edward happy and to satisfy typical, primal urges, and that was why this particular session - on a warm, Wednesday afternoon, with Edward on his back, laying sideways on the bed, one leg hooked on Jonathan’s shoulder and the other tucked under his arm - ended up surprising Edward something awful.

“Oh… _Jon…!”_

Under Jonathan’s critical eye, Edward was panting hard, sweat glistening on his chest and forehead, head tilted back and one fist bunched in the sheets of their bed. Face scrunched up as he moaned freely, Edward moved his hips back against Jonathan’s, meeting his every thrust to bring Jonathan’s cock deeper inside of him.

“Oh, God - _Jon…!”_ Edward groaned, eyes shut in bliss. His hair had long-since been pulled out of its gelled-back style, flopped over his forehead, damp with sweat and half clinging to Edward’s skin, half sticking up at odd angles. Toes pointed, feet bouncing in the air with Jonathan’s thrusts, hands rising from the sheets to curl into fists beneath his chin and spine beginning to arch, Edward was getting more than his fair share of attention.

Jonathan watched his every move, the slightest hint of a smirk on his lips. Edward might’ve been the one famous for his ego, but Jonathan could be rather self-centred too, and seeing the Riddler come undone beneath him was rather satisfying. Not even entirely in a sexual way; it was just nice to feel wanted. No - _needed._

It was with his own egotistical pleasures in mind that Jonathan put a hand on the thigh of the leg tucked under his arm, long fingers digging into the flesh there, and he slid the leg out from under his armpit and hoisted it up to hook onto his other shoulder, then he spread his own knees to give more space to work before returning his rough grip to Edward’s hips. With the position adjusted, Jonathan thrust even harder into the younger male, who threw his head back and let out some strange, strangled noise that began as a mewl and ended as a howl.

The head of Jonathan’s cock was now colliding with his sweet spot over and over, Jonathan’s hips were angled so perfectly and his thrusts were so deliciously rough, and Edward was seeing stars with each hard thrust Jonathan made. He didn’t know how to feel about Jonathan becoming some kind of expert on where exactly he could strike inside of him to get the Riddler - of all people - to make such sounds.

Relieved? Relieved sounded good; look at the action he was getting now!

“Oh, _Christ - Jonathan!_ Oh, God, right there…!”

From the way one side of Jonathan’s lips turned up in a particularly wicked-looking smirk, he was fully aware that this was yet another mission accomplished, and that Edward was about ready to fall apart.

Edward’s hands had started gripping handfuls of the sheets above his head, which was tilted even further back as he moaned loudly into the air, punctuated by cries of his lover’s name and blasphemous expletives that would’ve made any self-respecting nun burst into flames (the act itself would’ve, really; hell, Edward felt like he was on fire).

 _“Faster!_ Oh, God - Jon, _faster - please,_ faster!”

With his eyes shut and his head tilted back, Edward missed the small flicker of curiosity in Jonathan’s expression, an animal with its ears pricked up.

_Please._

“Oh, God, Jon…!” Edward gasped out, his right hand releasing the sheets and flying down to his neglected erection instead. He wrapped his fingers around his own length and began frantically pumping it, bringing more groans from himself, his face flushing bright red and burning. “F-Faster, _pleeeaaase, Jon…!”_

With Jonathan’s deep thrusting and his own quick stroking, he really didn’t feel like he was going to last much longer, and his spine arched right off the bed as he prepared to exclaim a warning to Jonathan about what was about to come (or who, haha), when his hand was suddenly snatched up and ripped away from his cock and forced back down onto the mattress instead. Even though it was innocent in whatever crime the other had committed, his left hand got the same treatment, crushed between Jonathan’s hand and the silk sheets.

And - to top it all off - Jonathan had stopped moving.

Panting, Edward opened his eyes halfway, looking up at Jonathan in confusion.

He was just…staring at him. Leaning over with his impossibly long torso, brown eyes digging deeply into Edward’s soul, running their gaze over every facial feature. His spidery fingers remained tight around Edward’s hands, forcing them down onto the sheets, and his expression was stiff and strict.

Edward felt like a bug under a microscope - no, like one of Jonathan’s test subjects; he was observing Edward’s body language, his reactions to what Jonathan was doing. He was about to get a reaction, alright.

“W-What?” Edward looked him up and down. “Why did you stop? What’s wrong?”

Jonathan stared in silence some more, clearly working something out in his head.

Edward huffed. “If you’ve just reached a conclusion to a theory in your research via the ol’ ‘do a mundane task to help you think about and overcome a problem’ tactic (though, I’d rather you not think of our lovemaking as ‘mundane’), bravo. But I’d really rather you finish me off before you go back to that basement of yours. It’s terribly rude to partake in sex and not -”

“Beg for it.”

Edward froze.

Did…Did he just say…?

Edward blinked his big, green eyes at him, momentarily baffled. Did he just hear the stoic, quiet, kink-less Jonathan Crane tell him to… _beg_ to be fucked? Was he really hearing this right? Or did he pass the last line of sanity and this was his first hallucination kicking in? Terribly rude for it to do this when he was getting his rocks off.

“…W…What?” Edward asked because he really needed to check that he heard that right.

Jonathan cocked his head. “I’m sorry, did I stutter? Was I not speakin’ loud enough?” He leaned in further, down to Edward’s face, where green eyes were bugging out of their sockets and lips had taken on an ‘o’ shape. “I said: _beg for it.”_

Edward could only stare. Was this really happening? Was this Jonathan coming out of his shell? Did he just discover a kink he actually enjoyed? Was Jonathan trying to…dominate him? Oh, God.

Oh, bless his heart - he was.

No wonder Jonathan had been observing him so carefully; he had been doing his own sort of research, but it was once more for selfish reasons. He’d been watching Edward’s expression so closely because he’d been enjoying it, and that must’ve been a new discovery all on its own.

Before, when Jonathan had had his one night stands, he didn’t give a flying fuck how the other guy felt, so long as he was consenting. He wasn’t that much of an arsehole that he’d deny someone of that, but there was no asking if he was okay when Jonathan pushed in nor if anything hurt afterwards. Jonathan simply hadn’t cared; his partner had been more like a sex toy than a person. So long as Jonathan himself got off fine and well, that was all that mattered.

Right now, with Edward, however, he seemed to be taking an utter delight in how Edward reacted to him. Look at that - Crane was learning to be human. One day, he might’ve just become a real boy.

Certainly, Jonathan taking initiative and demanding he beg was doing something for him - Edward fought the urge to wiggle and writhe beneath him, his cock aching for release, knowing just a few precious words would make Crane move again, perhaps even stroke Edward’s cock for him - but Edward was not a quitter.

With a snooty, prudish expression, Edward replied, “Make me.”

Jonathan stared for a moment, gaze boring into him, a subtle look of _‘how dare you speak to me that way’_ in his eyes…then he casually shrugged, let go of Edward’s hands and slid his cock out of him as he backed up, climbing off of the bed and reaching for his underwear.

Edward’s heart leapt into his throat in shock, his body following suit as he sprung up on the bed, now sitting up; what did Jonathan think he was doing?! He was baffled once more, but tried to play it cool by giving a cruel chuckle. “Big man doesn’t even want to try? I see you’re aware of when you’ve lost. An admirable trait to have.”

Jonathan shrugged again, pulling on his boxers with no effort whatsoever, despite the fact his dick was still rock hard, wrapped in a condom and slathered with lubricant. Jonathan wasn’t even human, was he? Look at him, not giving a single fuck about having an erection.

Wouldn’t be the first time, of course; he’d once fallen asleep with one, back when the prospect of penetration had been okayed. No clothes had even come off, except when Edward had left the room to slip into something more comfortable, only to return to find Jonathan out for the count. Hadn’t woken up, no matter what Edward had done; truly, he wasn’t human.

“Way I see it,” Jonathan said, reaching for his t-shirt and pulling it over his head, “ya can’t want it that bad if you ain’t willing ta get down off yer high-horse and ask for it.” He gave another shrug, bending to pick up his jeans, going to one foot to slip his leg into them, then did the same with the other. “No skin off my nose; I got things ta do, anyways.” Picking up his flannel shirt, but not putting it on, Jonathan sniffed and headed for the door to their bedroom. “Do enjoy yourself.”

And, with that, he walked out.

Edward’s jaw dropped. He couldn’t be serious - oh, who was he kidding? Of course Jonathan was serious. He’d left countless other men in Gotham to fend for themselves after he was finished up, he could quite happily do the same to Edward. Forget all that ‘things were different with Edward’ bullshit; Jonathan was as much a wanker to him as he was to the other blokes.

(He’d have to be a wanker, if he was going to do anything about that hard-on of his, haha.)

Edward huffed and looked down at himself. He could’ve quite simply stroked himself to completion, maybe even retrieved a toy from his collection to do Jonathan’s part in all of this, but…well, to be honest, it simply wouldn’t be the same. A part of why Edward enjoyed sex with Jonathan so much was because he _liked_ having Jonathan with him, feeling him on top of him, inside of him, having his hands on him and having Jonathan watch him like some personal show. Call him sentimental (or don’t, he’d rather you didn’t), but he preferred having Jonathan there with him.

Besides, until he got the right materials to make the toy he had in mind, none of his tools were as good at filling him up as Jonathan’s cock was, and he _needed_ to be filled up right now. Never mind how good with his hands Jonathan actually was; others might’ve called his spidery, scarred fingers creepy. Edward called them heaven in limb form. None of his toys could make Jonathan’s noises or have Jonathan’s careful gaze or - ohhh, _fuck it,_ he just needed Jonathan back.

Biting his lip, Edward hesitated, then he growled softly in his throat and called out, “Jon…! Jon, come back.”

It took a few seconds, with noticeably no sound of footsteps outside the door, before Jonathan’s head slowly slid back into view, one eye peeking around the door at Edward.

Motherfucker - he’d been lingering outside the door the entire time. Edward knew he hadn’t heard retreating footsteps. That bastard, he knew Edward would cave, that son of a bitch - _ohh,_ Edward simply _adored_ him.

Edward stared back for a moment before he huffed. “…Please.”

Jonathan didn’t reply, just silently arched an eyebrow. Strictly, expectantly.

Edward, embarrassingly enough, whined through closed lips and bunched his fist into the sheets beside him. Under Jonathan’s critical gaze once more, Edward curled in on himself, purposefully making himself look smaller and weaker to resemble the fearful poses Jonathan’s test subjects would take up, and then let himself go. _“Please,_ Jon. _Please,_ come back over here. _Please,_ finish me off. Touch me, fuck me, whatever you want - just _please, please,_ come back over here. _Please.”_

Jonathan stared in silence for a few moments more, analysing Edward’s every feature, from his reserved body language to his little pout. He was aware of what Edward was doing - the Riddler wouldn’t take on that façade for no reason - and he would’ve happily told Edward that the rumours about him having a kink for fear were very much untrue, so Edward’s attempt to look scared wasn’t really doing much for him besides getting him to notice how beautiful Edward could be when he really was afraid. But he wasn’t going to voice that, he was flattered Edward was making the effort, he’d gotten what he’d wanted and - quite frankly - the erection was becoming a little bit hard to ignore, so Jonathan too gave in.

With a nod, he stepped back into the room proper, reaching up to pull his t-shirt over his head as he said, “Okay, then.”

Edward could hardly contain his excitement. Immediately did he come out of his small and weak façade and reached out for Jonathan while the ex-professor shed his clothing again, Edward’s fingers curling and uncurling in the air in anticipation, immediately latching onto Jonathan’s shoulders as the older male climbed back onto the bed and crawled to him. He tugged Jonathan down on top of him as he fell back onto the bed, throwing his arms around Jonathan’s neck as he kissed him in relief.

Jonathan returned his kiss, one hand pressed to his lover’s side while the other kept him from laying directly on top of Edward, then he broke the kiss to resume his kneeling position from earlier, reaching for Edward’s legs to pick them up and hook them over his shoulders.

Edward happily laid back and let him do so, fingers curling into the sheets and grinning from anticipation, and he watched Jonathan’s careful expression as the older male looked down to watch himself disappear into Edward’s hole again, giving a grunt as he did so, while Edward let out a long moan.

Jonathan didn’t bother to wait for Edward to adjust at all, what with Edward being so desperate and already stretched and still slathered with lubricant; he gripped Edward’s hips in both hands and thrust in, deep, hard and fast, making Edward throw his head back and howl to the ceiling.

 _“Ohhh, Jon…!”_ Edward cried out. He immediately began pushing back against Jonathan’s thrusts, taking his cock deeper, and mewled and writhed on the bed in pleasure. _“Ahhh - Oh, Jon!_ Touch me, Jon - _please!”_

Grunting as he thrust into his lover, Jonathan took a moment to acknowledge Edward’s request, then used his right hand to release Edward’s hip and take his cock instead, pumping it in time with his thrusts, a rhythm which he took a few tries to accomplish, given his focus on his own pleasure.

Edward only moaned louder, whined at the intense feeling washing over him, and desperately bucked his hips, both into Jonathan’s hand and against Jonathan’s own cock, alternating between wanting the older man deeper inside of him and needing his cock stroked. He clutched desperately at the sheets, anchoring himself with them, his head thrown back as he moaned into the air, returning to his repetitive cries of Jonathan’s name and blasphemous expletives.

Soon enough, Jonathan’s thrusts became wilder and erratic, his face beginning to crease up. Still pumping Edward’s cock quickly, though losing the rhythm as he did with his thrusts, Jonathan leaned down to the younger man, bending his legs so that Edward’s thighs almost touched his own belly, almost bent in half under the ex-professor, and he kissed Edward firmly on the lips.

Edward kissed him back, moaning the second half of Jonathan’s name into his mouth as the kiss interrupted him, and the two men exchanged sloppy, wet kisses.

Jonathan broke their kisses to press his forehead to Edward’s instead. Brow furrowed, face bright red and scrunching up, Jonathan shut his eyes. He was clearly trying to control himself, and that just made him look adorably frustrated.

Edward smirked and chuckled lightly, reaching up with one hand to run his fingers through Jonathan’s hair, massaging his scalp and petting the greying, rust-coloured locks. With his other hand, he raked his nails down Jonathan’s back, which only made Jonathan’s face scrunch more, and Edward gave a triumphant smirk. Another thing that Jonathan liked; go figure.

Jonathan clearly didn’t want to be the one to cum first, for he frantically pumped Edward’s cock, his fist a blur as he stroked wildly, and Edward was distracted from his treatment of his boyfriend; he threw his head back and made another strangled noise, bunching his fist in Jonathan’s hair, digging his nails into Jonathan’s shoulder blade, and ultimately came with a high-pitched cry of Jonathan’s name.

Ropes of cum were shot over Edward’s chest, narrowly missing Jonathan’s too, and Jonathan pumped his cock a few more times to milk him dry before he suddenly released him, bunching both hands in the sheets on either side of Edward’s head, just as Edward’s own hands fell down beside both of Jonathan’s. He lifted himself slightly, thrusting into the younger male, who was still panting madly, but was noticeably exhausted now, until he too hit his orgasm, shooting his load into the condom as a guttural groan ripped itself from his throat.

Panting tiredly, both men stayed in place for a few moments, then Jonathan reached down to hold the condom in place as he pulled out, to which Edward mewled quietly.

Sitting on the edge of the mattress, Jonathan removed the condom, tied it off and threw it into the bin, then reached for the tissues on his bedside table and used two to clean Edward up, throwing them into the bin as well. He tossed the tissue box onto the table, then crawled up to take his place at Edward’s side and flopped down onto the sheets to rest, panting through his nose.

Edward, red in the face and thoroughly satisfied, turned his head to direct a tired but adoring look Jonathan’s way. He reached to cuddle him, but Jonathan shuffled away as soon as he brushed the skin of Jonathan’s chest, and Edward’s face fell. Still no to cuddling afterwards - right. At least he wasn’t rudely shoving Edward away anymore, so that was nice. An improvement.

They were silent for a while, besides their panting, then Edward turned to smirk at Jonathan. “You like hearing me beg, hm?”

Jonathan grunted and wouldn’t look at him.

Edward’s smirk only widened. _“Bless.”_ He chuckled as he noticed Jonathan’s frown, sparing him of further teasing lest he ruin any chances of the experience being repeated. He turned his head to look up at the ceiling instead.

This incident had given him hope; Jonathan wasn’t as much of a prude as they all believed, he had his own little desires and as-of-yet-to-be-revealed kinks, and Edward would be damned if he wasn’t going to discover each and every one of them. He grinned with the mere anticipation, wiggling slightly in excitement.

Experiments were to be conducted, it seemed; there was research to be done, and Edward believed it was high time for Jonathan to be the test subject.


	3. Knife Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kinktober challenge, using Scriddler as the muse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Jonathan Crane/Scarecrow, Edward Nygma; mentioned Victor Zsasz, Query, Echo.
> 
> Pairing: Jonathan Crane/Edward Nygma.
> 
> Warnings: NSFW content, blood; mentioned self-harm.
> 
> Notes: Decided to take up the Kinktober challenge with my boys. I’m very much late because, to be honest, I didn’t know this was a thing. But, hey - learn something new everyday. Prompt responses will range from drabbles to full-on fics, depending on where the inspiration takes me. 
> 
> All material belongs to DC Comics (although, my interpretations of the characters are used). 
> 
> Extra summary: Edward wants to try something new; Jonathan isn’t quite certain about this one…but not for the reason one would think.
> 
> Extra notes: Angst rather than smut, to be honest. Sorry ‘bout that, but I liked this idea best.
> 
> Day Three: Knife play

Jonathan had been rather surprised when Edward had told him what he wanted to try next in the bedroom, all the while brandishing the new tool for Jonathan to use on him. Perhaps ambushing the man while he was reading hadn’t been the best time for it, but any time was better than when Jonathan was in his study working, so Edward had gone for it. At least he’d waited until Jonathan was in a good mood.

Jonathan had heard of the specific kink before, through jokes aimed at various Rogues (Zsasz, usually, who would neither deny nor confirm whether it was true that his fixation on blades extended even to bedroom activities) and through his own research into fear. Yes, he’d dabbled on how fear connected to sexual experience - actually an intense, secure and _close_ connection - though he had hardly carried out such tasks himself. Anyone who got aroused by his toxin was tossed out of his lab shortly, after some quick observations were made for the sake of his studies.

Jonathan Crane wasn’t dealing with that shit, and neither was Scarecrow. Not after just the once, anyway; curiosity was the bitch that killed the cat, and no amount of satisfaction would bring it back after what Jonathan had had to endure during _that_ experiment.

In any case, he’d still been surprised when Edward had brought up the topic, if only because it’d been unexpected. Edward was an incredibly kinky fellow, but knives? Where he could easily be cut if Jonathan flicked his wrist too hard or lost his grip and let the blade slip during the sex itself or, hell, even _kill_ Edward should he feel the need? Edward, who complained over bruises ruining his image and casts that were too plain?

It’d been quite something, but Jonathan had complied, much as he did with most of the things Edward wanted from him in the bedroom (though, he drew a line at the teacher/student role-play; he’d had students try to seduce him during his career as a professor in order to get better grades, and having Edward try and play the same role only made him think of them. The very thought brought vomit into his throat; nobody should ever be thinking of their students during sex, past or present).

Edward, of course, couldn’t make things simple, and so he’d added bondage into the mix as well. Apparently some fantasy of his; whether he’d ever had Query or Echo supply the same stimulation in the past was unspoken and hardly even thought of, for the sake of Jonathan keeping any more of that vomit down.

He had quite an array of ties, Jonathan would admit, in lots of colours and materials. He’d picked purple ropes for this time around, the prospect of pulling his wrists against them and rubbing the skin raw making him excited, since he was sure getting a blade brushed across his skin would make him wiggle as the goosebumps formed. He threw a blindfold into the mix too, just for fun.

Jonathan just went along with it. Admittedly, he was somewhat intrigued by how Edward would react; he must’ve trusted Jonathan something awful if he was giving him a knife to use on him while he couldn’t fight back or even see him. Jonathan would’ve thought that sweet if it wasn’t incredibly stupid to completely trust a Rogue at all, and Jonathan was more disappointed in Edward for making such a dumb move than anything.

He’d told him as such, asked him if he was aware that Jonathan could kill him at any second, and Edward had only smiled, rolled his eyes like Jonathan was a child telling Edward about his over-ambitious future career, and replied in a sing-song tone, “I’m aware.”

Jonathan hadn’t taken kindly to the way the tone implied that not only was Edward believing Jonathan _wouldn’t_ or _couldn’t,_ but that he was silly for even bringing it up. He was not _silly_ and he did not appreciate Edward’s…subtle underestimation of him.

Only, he hadn’t _really_ wanted to… _prove_ why Edward shouldn’t have trusted him with the knife.

The knife was rather small, no longer than Jonathan’s hand, the handle black and chipped slightly from whatever use it’d gotten in the past; it wasn’t one from the kitchen, so Jonathan naturally assumed it was one that Edward kept in his blazer pocket in case he needed it while out on a heist. Despite its size, it was sharp, the edge of the blade jagged and rough.

Edward lay, smiling in anticipation, his eyes covered with the black, fabric blindfold wrapped around his head, his wrists bound by purple ropes to the bars of the wooden and plush headboard. He was dressed in nothing but his question mark boxers; he’d made it clear beforehand that - despite his love for his clothing - there would be no consequence if Jonathan were to, oh, y’know… _cut_ them off. His fingers twitched in excitement, he gave the occasional wiggle as he waited impatiently for Jonathan to do something - if he could see him at that moment, he wouldn’t have wanted him to do anything at all.

_Look at him, child. Look at him lay before you, an incapacitated deer. Look how he thinks he c’n trust us…Look how **foolish** he is._

“I’m ready, Jon,” Edward practically cooed, grinning now as he wiggled his hips, trying to entice the older male. “Whenever you are.”

_Look, child…what an idiot he really is. What a fool. So high an’ mighty ta believe himself correct, that he can…trust us. Remember how he wouldn’t believe you…How he wouldn’t accept yer words, how he ignored you when you told him how foolish he was to trust us…Show him, child. **Show** him how wrong he was._

Jonathan stared down at Edward with widened eyes, fully dressed compared to Edward’s near-nakedness, situated between Edward’s spread legs and leant over him. The knife was clutched in his right hand, handle warm against his skin from how tightly Jonathan was holding it, the chipped material digging slightly, and the tip of the blade was directed right at Edward’s heart.

His own heart pounded loudly in his ears, but no sound could block out the voice of the Scarecrow, whose words were silver wind on Jonathan’s ears.

_Show him, child…Show him he was wrong. Show him how right you were. Show him how clever you are, child, and how stupid he is._

Jonathan’s fingers were wrapped so tightly around the knife that his hand trembled lightly; no matter what, however, it remained poised over Edward’s thumping heart, the Riddler being none the wiser as he laid and waited for Jonathan to do something to him.

He’d been _right._ He knew he’d been right. It was foolish to trust any member of the Rogues Gallery with your life. They turned on each other at the drop of a hat, alliances and friendships be damned, and more often than not had no qualms about selling each other out to the Bat. More than once had Edward himself allowed Jonathan to remain in Arkham so he could teach him a lesson about not listening to him, when he was fully capable of waltzing in and breaking him out. He’d only visited to rub Jonathan’s loss in his face.

Jonathan had done the same to Edward a few times; they weren’t innocent either.

So what stopped Jonathan from teaching _Edward_ a lesson about not listening to _him?_

_He teased you, child. Told you you were…wrong. You hate being wrong…don’t you, Jon? You hated how he teased you, didn’t you?_

Yes. He’d hated it. He hated how stuck up his own arse Edward was, he hated how Edward always had to be right. He’d said Edward couldn’t fully trust him, how none of the Rogues could trust each other, but Edward _had_ to be right.

_He’s a fool, child. A stupid fool. Show him this, child. Show him how right you were. Show him, child. Show him, show him, show him, show him._

It would be so easy to kill Edward right now. Just stab downwards, right into his heart, end it all. He would show him how right he’d been, wipe that smug little smirk off of Edward’s face.

That would show him; nobody should underestimate the Scarecrow - ever. Edward Nygma had made a grave error in doing that, and Jonathan could _put him_ in his grave…right now. With the very weapon Edward had handed him.

“Jon? Are you still preparing yourself, dear? Nothing fancy, now, you can start.”

Never mind any toxin or drugs, never mind any of that. He just needed this, right here. This knife. Nygma had gone through a lot in the past, but even he couldn’t survive a stab to the heart. That would show him, that would show him Jonathan wasn’t weak, wasn’t one to be trifled with, wasn’t someone you should just dismiss.

Countless others had done that in the past, and Jonathan had shown them. He’d shown them all. What made Edward so special? What got him a Get Out of Jail Free card? Nothing, that was what. Nothing at all; the Riddler would rue the day he messed with the Scarecrow.

_That’s it, child. He will regret upsettin’ you. He’ll regret ever teasin’ you, ever callin’ you wrong. When he’s down in Hell, he’ll **know** what he did wrong, he’ll understand it. Do it, child. **End him.**_

“…Jon? Are you still…?” Edward trailed off, then raised a naked foot and waved it in the air vaguely. When he caught Jonathan’s hip, he rubbed the side of his foot against it, recognising the feeling of denim on his skin, and his brow furrowed. “You’re still there, I can feel you. What’s wrong?” There was a moment, then his lips formed an ‘o’ as a thought occurred to him, and he grinned wickedly. “Do you want a bigger knife? Oh, _Jon…!”_

Scarecrow cackled. _Yesss. Yes, we’d love one, wouldn’t we, child? Tell him we do, go on._

He didn’t have to; Edward tilted his head as he wiggled excitedly. “I wanted to start you off with something simpler, but if you feel like you’re ready…well, I’m not one to argue. There’s one with the rest of my collection, in my closet. Has a lovely rubber handle; I think you’ll make good use of it.”

_Oh. We will…Riddler._

“Feel free to fetch it.” Edward tilted his head the other way, leaning it upon his own shoulder. “I’ll be here…waiting…”

_See that, child? See how stupid he is? How he thinks he can trust us? You know better, Jon. You’re smart; he isn’t. Show him this, child, show him how stupid he was to ever trust you like this. Show him what we’re capable of. Do it, Jon. Show him._

Jonathan stared down at Edward’s covered heart, the tip of the blade still poised over it.

_He underestimated you. He teased you. He called you wrong. Just like…they did. Back then; back in our days of the farm. Remember yer cousin? Remember how he would do the same? An’ all them bullies who teased you, called you stupid?…Do you really want ta go through that again, Jonny…? Do you wanna be…a victim…all over again?_

“…Jon? Aren’t you going to get the knife?”

_Yes, Jonny. Aren’t you?_

“Jon? A response would be helpful, you know.”

Scarecrow growled.

Edward was frowning now. “…Riddle me this, Jonathan Crane: you’re attending a dinner, so I am expected. If you fail to show me, you will surely be rejected. I am the message you put on your plate, I am eating every last bite. I am every compliment you give, and every goodbye at the end of the night. What am I?”

He waited only a few moments before answering himself, “Etiquette! Good manners! That was purposefully simple, and you can take the dinner theme as a subliminal message, you skinny, little scarecrow, you, but I digress: you know what isn’t good manners? Ignoring questions. What’s wrong? Do I need to help with something? You haven’t cut yourself, have you? Because we had a talk about potential self-harming, and I told you I’d have none of it.”

_Ah. There it is. He called you…a scarecrow. Just like **they** did…D’ya see, child?…It’s all just a **repeat.**_

“…Jon? Jon, you’re, uh - heh - you’re worrying me now…”

_So he says. But he doesn’t mean it. Or maybe he does. Maybe he’s understandin’ now…what an error he’s made. But you can still show him, child. Show him you won’t be belittled. Show him how right an’ smart you are, and how wrong an’ stupid he is! Do it, child! Show him! Do it! Do it! Show him! Do it, child, KILL HIM!_

“Jon?”

_KILL HIM! KILL HIM! KILL HIM! KILL HIM! KILL HIM! KILL HIM! KILL HIM!_

“Jo -”

Edward was cut off as Jonathan savagely stabbed his blade down into the Riddler’s chest, the victim - because _he_ was the victim, not Jonathan - letting out a grunt which evolved into a scream of pain, and Jonathan ripped the knife from his chest and red oozed from the cut, dribbling down Edward’s sides and pooling betwixt his pectorals.

Jonathan didn’t hesitate in taking the knife in both fists and plunging the blade into Edward’s chest again, the other side now, and Edward thrashed about under him, kicking at his legs and belly, but not nearly strong enough to get Jonathan off of him. He fought against his binds, trying to squeeze his wrists out of them, but they held firm and so he was completely helpless as Jonathan ripped the knife back out and shoved it back in.

All over the Riddler’s chest did Jonathan stab, blood flying in droplets through the air as the knife was torn from Edward’s flesh, spraying over Jonathan’s glasses and painting the skin of his face and hands red.

Edward was sobbing beneath him, the blindfold becoming wet with devastated tears as he begged and pleaded for Jonathan to stop, asking him why he was doing this, what had Edward done _wrong,_ but Jonathan just continued stabbing into him over and over, teeth clenched in rage and watching every movement of his blade, every rip in Edward’s skin and flesh, every dribble his blood made.

Scarecrow was laughing madly in his head, absolutely delighted, cheering him on, and Jonathan kept stabbing and stabbing until Edward’s cries got too annoying and too loud, so he turned the knife in his grasp and sliced his arm horizontally through the air, slitting Edward’s throat with one long cut, and Edward’s latest pleads were cut off with a disgusting gurgle.

Blood sprayed right across Jonathan’s face, momentarily blinding him as it covered the lenses of his glasses, and Jonathan wiped them clean with an equally bloodied hand, leaving them stained but clear enough for him to see what he’d done. He wiped the excess blood on his own face.

Edward slowly stopped his thrashing, deflating against the bloodied sheets and pillow, body shaking with its muscles’ last, pathetic spasms, then Edward fell still and all was silent, besides Jonathan’s deep breathing through clenched teeth.

Scarecrow told him to move aside Edward’s blindfold and he did, grabbing at it roughly and shoving it up into Edward’s hair.

A pair of blank, unseeing eyes stared back at him, widened still and capping off an expression of pure terror and fright, and Jonathan thought Edward had never looked more beautiful.

He reached out a hand to caress Edward’s cheek, only to stop when he received no reaction from the man, and it suddenly hit him exactly what he’d just done.

A guttural noise left Jonathan and he pushed himself away from Edward, clutching the knife in his left hand now as his right covered his mouth. He stared at the corpse, eyes darting to every stain the blood had made on their bed, and he whimpered Edward’s name into his palm. He reached out and prodded Edward’s chest, in an area he hadn’t stabbed, but Edward gave no reaction, and Jonathan returned his hand to his mouth.

_Don’t you dare feel sorry, child. You heard what he said._

Jonathan ducked his head and shook it.

_**Don’t you dare.** _

Jonathan shook his head harder, eyes squeezing shut.

_Suddenly developing **guilt,** child?! Where was this durin’ our other crimes?!_

Jonathan only shook his head even harder, practically whipping it back and forth, as another guttural noise left him, this time muffled by his palm.

“Jon?”

Jonathan opened his eyes and suddenly all the blood was gone and Scarecrow wasn’t shouting at him anymore and Edward’s chest was free of wounds, having never been stabbed into in the first place. He had his head up, he was staring in Jonathan’s direction from underneath the blindfold, his fingers were twitching with anxiety and his legs were bent now, a subconscious want to get off of the bed.

Jonathan let out a muffled noise into his palm - relief, irritation at himself and at Scarecrow, general dismissive feelings toward the situation - and dropped his hand to try and speak, but only managed a pained hum through his shut lips.

“…Jon…Jon, the Bat-Signal is on.”

Jonathan shook his head and pushed himself away from Edward again, coming to sit on the edge of the bed with his forehead in the hand that wasn’t clutching the knife like his life depended on it.

“Jon - I’m using our safe phrase. ‘The Bat-Signal is on’. Jon, did you hear me? Jon, the Bat-Signal is on.”

When he still wasn’t untied nor had his blindfold removed, Edward thrashed against his binds, wiggling his fingers, angling his hands, going through every step that the great Houdini himself would make, before his hands came free from his binds and he scrambled to remove his blindfold, looking immediately to his partner.

“…Jon?” Edward spoke. When he received no response, he carefully crawled toward his boyfriend. “Jon? Jon, what’s wrong?” He reached out a hand, aiming for Jonathan’s shoulder. “Jon -”

Jonathan suddenly whipped around and sliced Edward’s neck straight open, spraying blood over Jonathan’s entire head and the bed and the carpet and the shelf opposite them, and Edward’s hands flew to his neck to try and stop the flow in his last moments of life before he flopped down to the bed, bleeding out into the sheets as he stared in horror at nothing -

Jonathan inhaled sharply as he felt Edward lean against his back shortly after his hand came to rest upon his shoulder, the soft flesh of Edward’s cheek resting against his spine. Jonathan stiffened at the contact, which Edward certainly noticed, and a gentle hand patted his shoulder blade.

“If you didn’t want to do that sort of thing,” Edward said, a little awkwardly, but certainly gentler than he normally spoke to his lover, “you could’ve just said so. I told you long ago, I won’t hold this sort of thing against you. Nothing sexier than consent, right?” He tried to joke, but received no reaction from Jonathan. “Jon?”

There was silence for a few moments, then Jonathan inhaled slowly through his lips and slid off of the edge of the bed, onto his feet. There was a _thunk_ as something was dropped to the floor, then Jonathan exhaled softly. “…I forgot ta take my pills. I need ta take my pills.”

With that, Jonathan left the bedroom, leaving a confused Edward in his wake.

The Riddler watched him leave, lips a perfect ‘o’, then he looked down at the carpet as something caught his eye: the object that Jonathan had dropped.

The knife lay there, clean, blade having never touched his skin or used in any way Edward would regard as sexy or stimulating, the handle still hot from how tightly Jonathan had clenched it.

Edward stared, drew the link between it and what Jonathan had said, and let a shuddered breath in. He drummed his fingers against his thigh, shutting his eyes and biting his lip as he silently cursed out Jonathan’s little delusion, then he got up, picked up the knife, stormed into his walk-in closet and threw it with the rest of his collection, deep in the back.

With that gone, he returned to the bedroom and sat on the bed, and simply let himself absorb the fact he had once again come so close to being Scarecrow’s next victim.


	4. Spit-Roasting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kinktober challenge, using Scriddler as the muse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Jonathan Crane, Edward Nygma; mentioned Oswald Cobblepot, Lex Luthor.
> 
> Pairing: Jonathan Crane/Edward Nygma.
> 
> Warnings: NSFW content.
> 
> Notes: Decided to take up the Kinktober challenge with my boys. I’m very much late because, to be honest, I didn’t know this was a thing. But, hey - learn something new everyday. Prompt responses will range from drabbles to full-on fics, depending on where the inspiration takes me. 
> 
> All material belongs to DC Comics (although, my interpretations of the characters are used). 
> 
> Extra summary: Eddie’s a freak in the sheets, what can I say.
> 
> Extra notes: Consider this a peace offering for the last one. Or something. Ed’s a strange dude.
> 
> Day Four: Spit-roasting

There must’ve been some build up to this, but…funnily enough, Edward couldn’t quite recall.

He couldn’t have just been _teleported_ into this situation, after all. There must’ve been some build-up. Some seduction; he must’ve gone up to Jonathan, fiddled with his shirt collar, murmured dirty things into his ear, maybe picked up one of Jonathan’s hands and led it to his thigh or his hip or his arse. Or maybe he hadn’t done any of that, maybe he’d just walked up to Jonathan, announced how horny he was and Jonathan had given his dull “Okay, then,” and off they’d gone to the bedroom.

What were the chances that Jonathan had gotten them into this situation? That it was one of those times where Jonathan’s primal instincts kicked in and he himself carried Edward to the bedroom to ravish him? Not likely; with Edward being such an intimate boyfriend, there was no chance for Jonathan’s Primal Instinct Meter to build up, so there was no sexually-desperate Crane to kidnap Edward during his own work and whisk him off to remove his ability to walk right. And Edward had yet still to figure out what drove Jonathan wild with lust, so there definitely hadn’t been any of that.

Well, whatever had happened had happened, and Edward certainly had no complaints about being on his hands and knees on he and Jonathan’s bed, with Jonathan knelt behind him and pounding into him, hands grasping tightly at his hips.

There was another mystery: how hard Jonathan was going. Edward must’ve challenged him, teasingly bet that Jonathan couldn’t go any faster than he’d already been going. Jonathan seemed immune to lust at the worst of times, but he could still get annoyed and was still rather egotistical. When Edward bet he couldn’t do something, he would be damned if he didn’t prove he could.

Edward made a mental note to collect his doughnut-shaped pillow from the special section in his closet so he would be able to sit down later. He had a meeting with Oswald, didn’t he? Had to sit down for that and there would be no subtle way of telling Oswald that Jonathan had fucked out his ability to sit comfortably. He would quite happily _tell him,_ he was just aware Oswald didn’t like hearing about it.

Edward’s skin was covered with sweat, fingers grasping tightly at the bed sheets as Jonathan thrust deep into him. His hair was damp and leant over his forehead, forced out of its usually-neat style, and his glasses were on the bedside table. Face burning, his mouth seemed to stay permanently open as he moaned loudly, encouraging Jonathan to give him more, he could take it.

“Ya like that?” Jonathan asked gruffly behind him, which surprised Edward; Jonathan was usually quite silent speech-wise, and he had certainly never dirty-talked him before, but fuck it if he didn’t enjoy it.

That by itself got Edward to groan in pleasure, nodding desperately as his body rocked with Jonathan’s thrusts.

“What was that?” Jonathan suddenly stopped his rhythm, causing Edward to whine and look over his shoulder at him. Jonathan regarded him with a strict, heated look that he’d obviously practised during his time as a teacher, and Edward let out a small moan at the sight of it. “Couldn’t hear ya, sorry. D’ya wanna speak up?”

Edward whined again, embarrassingly enough, and nodded frantically. “Yes - _Yes!_ Yes, I love it.”

“Good.” Jonathan suddenly thrust back into him, making Edward cry out. A calloused hand pushed itself into Edward’s hair, fingers massaging his scalp and making Edward hum and close his eyes in a bit of bliss. “Yer sucha good boy, aren’t ya, Edward? Lookit ya, takin’ Dr. Crane’s cock like this. Such a good boy.”

Edward moaned lowly and nodded twice.

God, what had gotten _into_ Jonathan? He’d _never_ talked to him like this - and how did he even know about Edward’s favourite kink? Edward had never brought it up, but…oh, but Jonathan was smart, he probably worked it out on his own. His mind had been the first thing Edward had fallen in love with, after all. Oh, _God,_ Edward loved him so much.

He went to voice this, but Jonathan was already thrusting deep into him, suddenly picking up his fast-paced, rough rhythm, and Edward howled in pleasure as Jonathan solely targeted his sweet spot, making Edward’s limbs tremble beneath him.

“Oh, _God, Jonathan!_ Oh, God, oh, _Christ…!”_

“Nope, sorry. Jus’ me.”

Unable to take the way Jonathan’s hard thrusts shook his body anymore, Edward’s arms collapsed from under him and he ended up falling face-first into the sheets, shutting his eyes against the silk as Jonathan continued pounding into him. His moans were muffled, cries of Jonathan’s name sent straight into the material beneath him and, as he gave a near-scream at Jonathan’s sudden increase in speed, he heard Jonathan click his tongue to scold him, and suddenly the thrusting stopped again.

Panting into the sheets, Edward opened one eye, then lifted his head slightly just to look back at Jonathan, who was giving him that stern look again.

“Now, c’mon, pet,” Jonathan said. “Ya stay like tha’, yer not gonna be able ta get ta Part Two.”

Edward’s brow furrowed in confusion. “P…Part T-Two…?”

God, what else could Jonathan possibly have in store for him? He didn’t feel like he’d be able to carry on much more after this; his knees were sore from keeping him up and his arms had already given way, his lungs felt like they were going to pop. What more was there to do? Jonathan had already practically incapacitated him; once they’d both finished, Edward just knew he’d collapse to the sheets and stay there unless Jonathan moved him himself.

“Mm-hm,” Jonathan replied, practically a purr, and he smirked wickedly.

Just as Jonathan’s expression shifted, Edward felt another presence; someone was now perched on the bed in front of him, and a hand was slotting itself beneath Edward’s chin and picking his head up from the sheets.

Lips forming a perfect ‘o’, Edward looked up with wide eyes at the new arrival, only to see Jonathan smirking down at him.

“J-Jon?” Edward asked, baffled. He could still feel Jonathan’s cock inside of him, still feel his hands on him, and yet…Jonathan was in front of him. He tried to turn his head to look behind him, but Jonathan was turning his head back around and leaning down to press a kiss to Edward’s lips. Despite himself, Edward returned it.

Jonathan pulled back to break the kiss, a smirk still on his scarred lips as his fingers gently stroked over Edward’s jaw, then he leaned his mouth close to Edward’s ear and murmured, “’m sure ya c’n take two at once, can’t ya, darlin’? Bein’ sucha good boy like ya are…”

Edward’s heart could’ve stopped then and there.

Was…Was he really saying…? Oh, God, please, yes. Oh, was this seriously happening? Was Jonathan really implying what he thought he was implying? Oh, _Christ,_ yes! Oh, Jonathan had _never_ been okay with the prospect of threesomes before, he hated the mere _thought_ of another man pleasuring Edward in his place, and women were out of the question considering Jonathan’s sexuality.

But this! This was a solution! _Two Jonathans!_

Edward didn’t even question how the hell this was possible, he didn’t want to. He just wanted this, and so he nodded frantically to Jonathan’s question. _“Yes_ \- oh, _God, yes!_ Yes, I can, I promise.”

“Good.” The second Jonathan reached for the drawer on his (their?) side of the bed, all the while the first Jonathan, still behind him, slowly circled his hips and moved himself around inside of Edward, causing Edward to moan lowly.

The second Jonathan collected a bottle of red lubricant from the drawer, giving Edward a sly glance before dribbling some onto his left hand and reaching down for his own cock to slather it on, purposefully making his movements slow as he basked in Edward’s desperate, lustful gaze.

Indeed, Edward’s eyes were locked on him, following the slow rise and fall of his hand, the Riddler’s face burning impossibly hot, and Jonathan looked down at him with that same, wicked smirk the other one had used.

“Fer taste,” he said casually, making Edward mewl and wiggle in anticipation, staring up at him like a pup that had been promised a treat.

The wiggle of his hips made the Jonathan behind him hiss lightly, the hip movement stroking his cock on the edges of Edward’s hole, and he hummed in approval as his fingers tightened their grip on the Riddler’s hips.

The second Jonathan capped the lubricant bottle and tossed it aside, the little plastic container bouncing once on the carpet before falling flat on its side by the bedside drawer it had come from. He reached for Edward’s chin and gently pinched at the skin. “Open up, darlin’.”

Behind him, the first Jonathan was beginning to move his cock out of him, unbearably slow, and back inside even slower, making Edward moan lowly and give a desperate look behind him before turning back to the offer before him.

Obediently, he opened his mouth, tilting his head back slightly and shutting his eyes proudly to show his lover what he’d done, earning himself a little chuckle at Edward’s pointless, showy attitude.

“Good boy,” Jonathan said, then directed his own cock into Edward’s mouth, giving a low groan at the sudden wet, hot cavern. _“God,_ Edward…”

Edward closed his lips around the tip, looking up at Jonathan for approval; when he received a heated look in return, he slid his mouth further down the length until he’d taken in half of it, looking Jonathan in the eye and bringing another groan from his boyfriend’s lips. His tongue gave the tip a few licks before he raised one hand from the sheets, putting his weight on his other hand as he grasped at the base of the second Jonathan’s cock and stroked slowly, getting a thin layer of lubricant on his hand for his troubles.

Jonathan had chosen the cherry-flavoured lubricant, and Edward hummed in his own bit of approval as he swirled the length of his tongue around Jonathan’s shaft, earning a long moan.

The second Jonathan’s hand came down to grasp at Edward’s hair, taking a fistful and yanking hard, making Edward moan around his cock, which brought Jonathan to moan in turn. He wasn’t even ashamed to make noise, like normal; Edward would be surprised if he wasn’t so preoccupied, especially since the first Jonathan had begun to speed up his thrusts a bit, making himself groan Edward’s name.

Edward sucked on the length in his mouth, stroking the base and delighting at Jonathan’s pleased noises. His tongue circled around the head, pressing its tip into the little hole, and he revelled in the high-pitched whine he got in return, resisting the urge to grin. That wouldn’t fare well for Jonathan, and Edward was far too busy with his cock for this arrangement to end so soon.

Behind him, Jonathan ran a hand down Edward’s spine, through one of three green question marks Edward had tattooed on his back, causing goosebumps to stand up upon the Riddler’s skin and making him give a little wiggle at the feeling. This pushed his hips back against Jonathan’s, taking his cock deeper, and Jonathan groaned before speeding up his thrusting, baring his teeth wickedly.

Edward moaned around the second’s length; the first’s thrusts were hard enough now that Edward’s body was rocked between his two partners, making him involuntarily bob his head around the second’s cock, teeth scraping on the shaft against his will. He put a hand to the small of the second’s back to gain some semblance of control, holding himself firm so he could bob his head at his own pace instead, taking care with his teeth and favouring the use of his tongue upon the heated skin of the shaft. Despite being unable to see them, he followed veins with his tongue, having long-since memorised what Jonathan’s cock looked like when it was hard, and was rewarded with groans and whispered praise using his name.

“Sucha clever boy, Edward, lookit you…”

Edward hummed in agreement; suddenly, however, he was thrown forward, the head of the second’s cock going straight to his throat, and a surprised yelp became a small retch as he quickly pulled himself back before he could gag right off of the length. The second’s cock slid from his mouth with a slight ‘pop’, Edward smacking his lips lightly to savour the taste of sweet cherry. When he’d righted himself, he glanced behind him to find the first Jonathan giving him the same stern look, and Edward detected jealousy from him.

To soothe the situation, Edward purposefully made himself look vulnerable, giving the Jonathan behind him a little pout, and groaned lowly. “More, Jonathan, _please. Please,_ more.”

The first smirked with triumph and dug his nails into Edward’s hips before pounding into him, making Edward tilt his head back and howl to the ceiling, face creasing up with pleasure.

The second Jonathan looked him up and down, frowned, then roughly grabbed for Edward’s hair again and led his mouth to his cock.

Edward felt the head brush against his bottom lip and opened one eye to look up at the Jonathan in front of him. He smirked and obediently opened his mouth wider, taking the offered cock betwixt his lips, groaning loudly despite being muffled when the second Jonathan thrust his hips, reaching the same pace as the first.

With both lovers thrusting so harshly into him, trying to best the other, Edward felt like he could barely breathe. He kept a hand on the left hip of the second Jonathan to try and help with this, but the first was still thrusting so erratically into him that he couldn’t really help but be rocked along with him.

“Bein’ sucha good boy, Edward,” the Jonathan behind him said between grunts. “Lookit ya, bein’ good fer Dr. Crane. God, I love ya…an’ I think ya deserve a li’l reward…”

With that, the first Jonathan leaned against his back as he reached down and snagged Edward’s own erection in one hand, long fingers wrapping around the shaft and immediately stroking fast.

Edward moaned loudly around the cock between his lips, the sound almost completely muffled as the second Jonathan continued to thrust deep into his mouth, hand still buried in Edward’s hair and holding his head in place for him.

Edward felt his own cock twitch in the first Jonathan’s hand and his face reached an unbearable temperature as he closed his eyes and took in a deep breath with his nose to prepare himself. Between both Jonathans’ administrations, it was no wonder he was already rearing to cum, but it was still a bit embarrassing.

Him, a pro, cumming already! Jonathan - either Jonathan - had better not tease him for it later.

Just as he gave a muffled scream, shooting his load onto the silk sheets beneath him, the second Jonathan gave a loud groan as he came into Edward’s mouth, and - for a moment - Edward was caught between spitting and swallowing, but ultimately decided -

Edward awoke with a start, eyes immediately taking in the darkness of the bedroom. He blinked a few times, then groaned in tired irritation, which quickly turned into disgust when he felt the clinging wetness in his pyjama bottoms. He leaned over to turn on the lamp on his own bedside table before rubbing his eyes, then addressed the feeling in his pyjamas.

Lifting the duvet, he glared down at his crotch; the tent had gone down amidst his dreaming, but now there was a large wet patch on the front of his otherwise pristine, green, silk pyjamas. One of the design’s purple question marks was smack-bang in the middle of the stain as well; how very droll.

Edward huffed in irritation, then directed a glare to the other half of the bed, which was empty and cold from the lack of a warm body sleeping in it.

“Why did you have to go out on a heist tonight?” He asked grumpily to his absent boyfriend, then shook his head and pushed his duvet aside to get out of bed.

Walking proved rather gross, but he persevered and padded out of the room to the bathroom down the hall.

“Who was I kidding?” He muttered to himself. “Oh, sure, the thickened accent was attractive, and him actually telling me he loves me was appreciated (per the norm for my dreams), but two Jonathans? They’d kill each other before performing any sort of sex act with me; Jon’s dislike of other people going near me in that manner would extend to his own clone, surely.”

He shed his pyjamas and climbed into a well-earned cold shower, hissing at the temperature before directing a tired glare at the wall.

“…That being said…note to self: break into LexCorp at some point. Rumour has it Luthor’s got a means of cloning and I’ll be _damned_ if I’m just going to skip out on this opportunity.”


	5. Sadism/Masochism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kinktober challenge, using Scriddler as the muse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Jonathan Crane, Edward Nygma; mentioned Jon’s grandmother, Oswald Cobblepot, Selina Kyle.
> 
> Pairing: Jonathan Crane/Edward Nygma. Mentioned past Edward Nygma/Selina Kyle.
> 
> Warnings: NSFW content; mentioned past child abuse.
> 
> Notes: Decided to take up the Kinktober challenge with my boys. I’m very much late because, to be honest, I didn’t know this was a thing. But, hey - learn something new everyday. Prompt responses will range from drabbles to full-on fics, depending on where the inspiration takes me. 
> 
> All material belongs to DC Comics (although, my interpretations of the characters are used). 
> 
> Extra summary: They’re Rogues - what did you expect?
> 
> Extra notes: Probably a good time to mention that every one of these prompt responses is canon to what I affectionately refer to as the WanderVerse and bounce around in terms of timeline. That being said - y’all didn’t think Jon would be Dr. No Kinks Nor Care forever, did you?
> 
> Day Five: Sadism/Masochism

Edward was pleased to find that Jonathan, much like every other species in the world, was capable of evolving. A wonderful triumph of logic, since Edward was still quite certain Jonathan wasn’t human, but that didn’t matter now, for Jonathan _had_ evolved.

While he wasn’t, by far, Edward’s most sexual partner nor was he jumping into the sack with any sort of unadulterated enthusiasm, he definitely wasn’t as stoic anymore. He could be seduced (actually _seduced,_ not just told to come to bed via Edward announcing his lust), he was more willing to experiment because _he_ was curious and not just because Edward wanted to do something more adventurous, there had even been a couple of incidents where _Jonathan_ had initiated the sex.

Edward couldn’t say he wasn’t enjoying this new Jonathan. He was still far from everything Edward wanted of him, but he was _better_ than before.

Simply put, Jonathan was much more comfortable with he and Edward’s relationship now; Edward wasn’t just a colleague anymore. Truthfully, he hadn’t been for a long time, but Jonathan hadn’t been willing to accept it. Now, he was, and Edward got to reap the benefits of Jonathan’s evolution, both sexually and not (it had also been discovered that Jonathan gave very nice cuddles, despite being skin and bone).

For now, however, the sexual kinds would be explored because that’s what one is here for.

“Oh, God…! Oh, _God…!”_

“God ain’t here, pet. Jus’ me.”

On his elbows and knees for Jonathan, Edward’s heart pumped wildly in his ears as his blood flooded his face, making the creamy skin a tomato red. His expression was creased with pleasure and bliss, eyes shut tightly as he moaned, then they slid open a fraction as he felt the leather tongue of a riding crop brush over his shoulder blades, following the outlines of his three question mark tattoos.

This particular kind of kink was a rocky road at first, if only because it had once been used upon Jonathan in a _very_ non-sexual context, when he’d be weeping and begging for Granny not to retrieve the belt she kept around only to carve another scar into his lower back. Nobody should ever be thinking of their grandmother during sex - let alone abusive, Bible-loving ones who constantly made it clear how much she hated a mistake like them - and Jonathan had had to back out of the first attempt.

Edward had understood. He hadn’t been happy, but he’d understood.

Eventually, however, Jonathan had been willing to give it another go, if only because he’d reached a fantastic conclusion on how to approach such a topic: turning something his grandmother had used as abuse into something for sexual gratification would have her turning in her grave, perhaps more than the homosexuality would, and Jonathan was all for torturing his late grandmother’s memory.

With that in mind, they’d tried again, and results were given. These results were: Jonathan actually rather enjoyed it, and he favoured the riding crop.

Logical conclusion, really; Edward had often called him a cowboy, back in the day, he might as well fit the image.

He’d taken to it so quickly in the end, Edward was caught between shock, smug satisfaction and pride that the once-innocent and kinkless Jonathan Crane had been firmly yanked from his shell. He’d always known there had to be something Jonathan was hiding under those layers of grumpiness and indifference to sex; even Jonathan himself had been oblivious, but Edward had known. Oh, he had known.

From the start, Jonathan had had elements of a classic dominating type to him - the way he seemed to like bending Edward into whatever position he wanted, how he’d been so interested at having Edward beg, that wicked little glint in his eye when he got Edward to make noises - and Edward had known it would be a matter of time before that side of Jonathan began to throw itself onto the stage. Edward was just thrilled to be the one to raise the curtains for him.

“Come on now, pet,” Jonathan said behind him, cock buried deep inside of him.

He wasn’t entirely undressed; Edward had caught him at a time where Jonathan had been wearing his formal wear (worn only for meeting clients who requested his…talents in dealing with rivals and for meetings with the Penguin at the Iceberg Lounge, where formal wear was a must) and so it was a deep red waistcoat and black tie pair that graced the carpeted floor of their bedroom tonight. His shirt remained on, but was unbuttoned and the collar was turned up from the rush of removing the tie; his slacks and boxers were bunched up halfway down his thighs, belt pulled out from the loops to get it out of the way.

Edward couldn’t deny the appeal of seeing Jonathan in what the Southerner dubbed his ‘fancy threads’. How skinny he was, yet how well the clothes suited him; they should do, as Edward had taken Jonathan to his tailor to get him fitted for it, and the Riddler only hired the best.

This hadn’t been the first time Edward had caved and craved sex after seeing Jonathan in them, it wouldn’t be the last, and sometimes the lust could be terribly inconvenient. He’d once had to pull Jonathan aside at one of Oswald’s parties, and the fact that the two had had sex in the Iceberg Lounge’s conference room was a secret that still remained firmly between them.

(For now.)

“Dr. Crane can’t hear you. Ya know how much he likes ta hear you.” Jonathan gave Edward’s spine a few light taps, creating a downwards trail, as a light warning as he continued thrusting into him.

Edward nodded pitifully, despite himself, and increased his volume just a tad, crying out when Jonathan gave a particularly hard thrust, clearly trying to wrench the noises from Edward’s throat. Edward’s fists tightened so much, his nails dug into his palms.

He was unable to grasp at the sheets as he normally would, for his wrists were tied together with dark blue rope, picked from his closet. Jonathan had ordered for ropes, Edward only got to pick the colour.

“Oooh - Oh, _God - Jon!”_

“No.”

There was a sharp crack as the crop was swung through the air, smacking onto Edward’s skin so hard, it left a bright red mark.

Edward cried out in a mixture of pain and pleasure, head thrown back as his skin stung, the chilled air and cold sweat fighting against the warmth that quickly spread over the spot where Jonathan had whipped him. The sensation made him bite his lip, brow furrowing, and he let out a moan muffled by chewing on a lip, which soon turned into a whine when Jonathan stopped the thrusting of his hips.

Edward could practically feel Jonathan’s arched eyebrow and expectant gaze as the good doctor stared down at him.

“What’s my name…?”

Edward looked at him out of the corner of his eye, then - in a moment of daring defiance - he smugly replied, “Excuse me - _Jonathan.”_

Jonathan sighed through his nose and shook his head, truly looking like a disappointed mentor, an expression he no doubt perfected in his old days of teaching, then he used the crop to trail a line down Edward’s spine. Once he reached the base, he brought the crop back and whipped another stinging, red mark into Edward’s right buttock.

Edward’s cry flew from his throat, but was cut off halfway when Edward pushed his face into his joined fists, catching the cry and shoving it straight back into his vocal cords.

“What was that?” Jonathan asked, cocking his head, a warning in his tone.

Edward hummed into his thumbs, then raised his head just high enough to be heard. “I said - _ha_ \- I said your name is _Jonathan.”_

_“No.”_

There was no delicate stroke before the next caning; the leather tongue of the crop struck the side of Edward’s right thigh, making the leg flinch enough that Edward’s body threatened to topple from its position, but a sharp growl from Jonathan informed him that doing so would be a very bad idea, so Edward quickly caught himself.

As Edward panted lightly into his own thumbs, Jonathan traced one of his question mark tattoos with the crop. “Is the Bat-Signal on?”

Edward had to take a moment to regain his thoughts, then he cleared his throat and uttered, “No.”

Jonathan nodded; with the confirmation that Edward was still okay with this, it was time to move on.

The tongue of the crop came to caress the mark on Edward’s arse, one of four that had been put there this session. One was purpling while the others remained a staining scarlet colour, and Jonathan took but a moment to appreciate the contrast on Edward’s otherwise perfect skin.

Edward gave a small hum and gave the tiniest move backwards to push himself against the crop, seeking its touch, and Jonathan shook his head to scold him.

“I’m givin’ you a choice here, Edward,” Jonathan said. “Ya can behave yerself and call me by my name or you can receive more punishment. It’s really not difficult; a no-brainer, one might say.”

Edward swallowed thickly. “You say ‘punishment’ like it’s a bad thing.”

Jonathan snorted, then ran the crop’s tongue over the mark on Edward’s thigh. “Maybe I should start smackin’ you in more obvious places, hm? Maybe I should flip you over an’ strike your chest. Or your arms. Maybe even your hands or your face. Anywhere to show people what a _disrespectful brat_ you are.”

Edward took a moment to settle himself. “They’ll just think you’re abusing me.”

“And you’ll set them straight, I’m sure.” He lightly tapped the tongue against Edward’s wound. “After all, you love this, don’t you? Bein’ whipped inta shape.” He clicked his tongue and shook his head. “Disgraceful.”

Edward let out a small mewl and writhed underneath him, pushing his hips back against him to try and urge him to move again. Not only was Jonathan’s language doing it for him, but his tone was too; Jonathan had truly mastered this act, and Edward was more than pleased to help him in rehearsals.

Edward was reminded fondly of his times with Selina, whose whip-cracking skills made for fun bedroom activities as much as they did useful talents in their line of work, and he’d had one or two little fantasies about Jonathan and Selina ganging up on him with their respective tools (which would remain fantasies; Jonathan still hated threesomes and was still very much gay).

There was something different in Jonathan’s portrayal of the dominating type, though; perhaps still some element of his old teaching career in there, where he’d been a strict-as-all-hell professor who had taken no shit nor excuse from anyone, or maybe it had come from the days he’d been employed at Arkham Asylum, where his stern persona helped keep patients and orderlies alike in line? Wherever it had come from, it made his act differ from Selina’s, and it was a welcomed difference.

“Pot, kettle, black, sir,” Edward said, the use of the title making Jonathan’s grip loosen slightly on the crop, satisfying him just slightly, “you seem to like delivering my…punishments.”

“Well,” the crop tapped out a trail on his spine, _“someone_ has to make sure you behave. Whether it’s _fun_ fer me or not will remain unspoken. Now, Nygma,” the crop stroked up and down Edward’s spine, making him wiggle as it tickled him, “I believe I requested you use my name?”

“And I did,” Edward replied, _“Jonathan.”_

Jonathan sighed. “No.”

He bucked hard into Edward, striking inside him so suddenly that Edward cried out, then delivered an equally hard smack in the middle of the right side of Edward’s back, bringing the cry to a higher pitch as it ended, like the finishing flick on a signature.

_“Name, Nygma.”_

“Why, yes, that is my na -” His own yelp cut him off; Jonathan had smacked another bruise into his arse.

_“Name.”_

“J-Jon -”

_“No.”_

Another hard thrust, another crack of his crop, another mark upon his arse, another cry from Nygma’s lips.

_“Name.”_

“J -”

Another, another, another, another.

_“Name!”_

“Professor! Professor Crane!”

Jonathan smacked the sheets beside Edward’s leg. “Name.”

 _“Mmph…”_ Edward wiggled, basking in the fight of hot and cold on his skin, how Jonathan’s cock filled him as perfectly as it always did, but desperately wishing he would move, he was so _close_ to his sweet spot. Just one little tilt of the hips, that was all he needed.

The sensations and lack of the perfect one made his head spin, and he momentarily forgot what was being asked of him, then he swallowed thickly as tilted his head to speak properly, “…Mm…Doctor. Dr. Crane.”

Jonathan smirked behind him. “There we go.” He traced one of the marks with the crop. “Now, was that so difficult?”

Edward let out a small noise through his shut lips, neither agreement nor disagreement, and those lips parted suddenly as he cried out; Jonathan had begun his rhythmic thrusting again.

Jonathan was only ever to be called ‘Dr. Crane’ in these sessions, with some ‘doctor’ and ‘sir’ sprinkled in here and there, just to keep things lively. Calling him ‘Jonathan’ or ‘Jon’ earned him a smack; an utterance of ‘dear’, ‘dearest’, ‘darling’ or even _‘Professor_ Crane’ would get a warning smack into the sheets, close enough to Edward’s leg that he would feel the way the air blew cold as the crop rushed through it and - God forbid - if Edward were to attempt to be cheeky and refer to him as _‘Mr._ Crane’ - _well._

Jonathan would up and leave him right then and there, pick up his trousers, tut about Edward not learning respect, and go as far as retreating to his basement study to teach Edward a lesson, taking the riding crop with him.

Sooner or later - it was shameful, he knew - Edward would come whining to him to return, and Jonathan would only do so after his proper title was used enough times to satisfy him. He would make it clear he didn’t care if things were going to continue or not; he never had the crop within reach when Edward came to collect him.

Edward had learned all the rules by now, and he lovingly exploited them, if only to receive Jonathan’s wrath.

Like in many aspects of his life, Jonathan was strict. He took no nonsense, didn’t allow Edward to get away with misbehaving, and Edward had never been more in love with him.

“You see that, pet?” Jonathan asked amidst a breath, thrusting deep and revelling in Edward’s moans. “You give me what I want, I give you what you want. It’s very simple, no riddles applied.”

 _“A-Ah_ \- M-Maybe that’s what I’d like.”

A smack upon the inner curve of one of his question mark tattoos, softer than the others, but enough to make him yelp, a warning not to be cheeky.

“Another time, pet. Fer now, you get this, and you won’t complain about it.”

Edward’s ears were burning, his blush had travelled so far. “Yes, doctor.”

That earned him a wicked smirk and perfectly angled hips; Edward moaned loudly as the head of Jonathan’s cock found his sweet spot at last.

The bruises made purplish-red blots on Edward’s creamy skin, and Jonathan stroked over them teasingly with the crop’s tongue as he fucked him. He made patterns around the three tattoos on Edward’s back, having previously coloured in the empty spaces between the curves and dots of the punctuations, and he made Edward thank him for improving upon their designs.

It almost was an improvement; there was now a piece of Jonathan in them, marks to show that he was Crane’s. True, the bruises would fade, but Jonathan could always put them back there. Edward would happily let him.

The crop was caressing his skin, stroking and gliding its leather tongue across him; Jonathan reached under him to tease at his chest, managing to circle his nipples without seeing them, earning tension in Edward’s body and pathetic mewling from reddened lips.

The Riddler puffed out his chest to try and follow the tongue as his nails dug fiercely into his palms, the ropes rubbing against his wrists as his body rocked with Jonathan’s thrusts. They were bound for one reason and one reason alone: to stop himself from touching his cock. He knew that, Jonathan knew that, so it was only a matter of time before Edward was bringing it up.

“T-There’s something else I want…”

“Of course there is,” Jonathan replied, a flicker in his eyes. _This was it._ “Yer so greedy, after all. Makes sense you’d only want more and more and more. But go on, pet, enlighten me: what else do you want?”

Edward took a moment to hide his mouth in his bound wrists, brow furrowed and brain working to rediscover language, then he lifted his head to speak, “Touch me. I want to be touched.”

“Do ya now?”

A smack upon his arse, a punishment for his lack of manners. He was to _ask,_ not _order._

“Well, you’d better touch yerself, then, hm?”

Edward forced a pout onto his face, despite knowing Jonathan wouldn’t see it, just to make himself look more vulnerable. “I can’t.”

He could, in a sense, and they both knew it. He knew exactly how to get out of these binds, he’d studied Houdini for years and knew how to get out of most of anything. He _could_ get out of them, but then he also couldn’t, for Jonathan would deny him of any further sex this session if he were to break the rules. It was _that_ example that Edward spoke of when he claimed he couldn’t, and they both knew _that_ as well.

“Oh? Can you not? That’s a shame. Huh.”

Edward, embarrassingly enough, whined. He ducked his head and grumbled, “God, you always do this…”

“What was that?” Jonathan asked strictly.

A warning smack against the base of his spine.

“I-I said,” Edward cleared his throat and raised his head, “I’d like _you_ to touch me, doctor.”

“Ah.” A tapped-out trail along Edward’s back. “Then you’d best ask nicely.”

Edward groaned through shut lips, through irritation and impatience than anything, before he decided to cave. His cock was already aching with need, red and hot against his belly, and he tilted his head to look at Jonathan over his shoulder. “Please, Dr. Crane. _Please._ Please, touch me. I need it. _Please.”_

There was a moment of fake consideration, in which Edward genuinely wondered if Jonathan was going to go through with his request, then Jonathan hummed and nodded once, and Edward watched as Jonathan set the riding crop down on the bed beside him.

“Alright, then. Good man.” The thrusts came to a stop as he felt Jonathan begin to bend, his open shirt brushing Edward’s skin and soon crumpling against it, and Jonathan’s left hand came to rest by his arm as the older man steadied himself. “Rules still apply, pet,” he murmured in Edward’s ear. “Don’t think I won’t pick that back up, should you disrespect me again.”

Edward nodded twice.

Jonathan smirked, then he reached beneath Edward with his right hand and wrapped his long fingers around his length. He began stroking slowly, a pace that made Edward ache all the more, and Edward mewled pathetically and it made Jonathan chuckle darkly into his ear, breath wet upon the shell, before he sped up his pumping.

Edward moaned freely into the air, toes curling as relief was finally his, and Jonathan muttered an order to him, “Say thank you.”

_“Thank you…”_

“Thank you…?”

“Mmm - Dr. _Crane…!”_

“Good man.”

Behind him, Jonathan’s hips began to move again, slowly at first, just like his pumping; this wasn’t done to tease Edward but to settle back into the groove again.

Jonathan grunted into his ear, hummed as he found his place again, then he picked up the movement, speeding up until he rediscovered that lovely pace he’d had before, and even he couldn’t resist moaning into Edward’s ear, making Edward smirk.

From then on, all but one rule was forgotten, and that was only Jonathan’s title. Both men were too busy succumbing to their pleasure to really think on them, Jonathan keeping his chest pressed to Edward’s back as he thrust into him, hard and fast, rutting like some horny teenager, and Edward put his weight on his bound hands as he pushed his hips back against him, crying out for Dr. Crane, singing his praises to keep him happy and to not tempt him to take up the crop again.

Now was the time for this, where Jonathan was just inside of him and striking that one, special spot to make him weep, where he just revelled in how close he and Jonathan were, where he could cry out how much he loved him.

It didn’t take long before Jonathan was groaning Edward’s name in his ear, pace picking up as he desperately reached for the finish line, and he came with a loud groan and a blasphemous expletive, bringing his thrusts to a stop as - for a moment - exhaustion took over him. He took a brief break to try and catch his breath, in which Edward whined impatiently at the loss of the rhythm, then he picked up his thrusting (though the movement wasn’t as fluid) and his wild pumping of Edward’s leaking cock.

Edward pushed and pulled his hips back and forth, fighting for attention from both Jonathan’s hand and his cock, before he finally came himself with a low groan of Jonathan’s name - his name, not his title - and gasped as he collapsed to the sheets, taking Jonathan down with him.

Both men took a moment to catch their breaths, then Jonathan reached down to hold the condom in place as he pulled out. He came to sit on the bed, legs loosely crossed, and slid the latex sleeve from his softened cock, tying it off before throwing it away. He collected tissues from the bedside table and, with one hand, he rolled Edward onto his back to check for any mess on his tummy.

A few specks of cum, which Jonathan wiped away, before he did his best to clean the sheets of Edward’s release as well. There was still a damp spot, which doing the laundry would have to solve, and Jonathan threw the tissues into the bin before reaching for Edward’s wrists, which were still bound with the blue ropes.

“C’mere,” he said quietly.

Edward opened one eye, having shut both during his state of tired bliss, then offered his wrists up. He could’ve still gotten out of them - and now he really _could,_ since role-play was over - but he knew Jonathan liked to do the honours. It was the transition from master to lover, after all.

Jonathan untied him with some delicate pulls of the ropes, Edward having to correct him just once when he’d accidentally created a new knot instead, and the ropes were collected into a bundle before being set aside. With some hesitance, Jonathan reached for him again and Edward again offered his wrists, and Jonathan took them with the same delicate touch. With just the pads of his fingers, Jonathan gently stroked and massaged the red marks from where the ropes had cut into Edward’s wrists and rubbed.

Edward smiled adoringly; who knew Jonathan Crane even knew such things like gentleness and care?

“Are you alright?” Jonathan asked.

Edward nodded twice. “Perfect, dear.”

“Good.” Jonathan stroked his wrists until he was satisfied, a full minute, then he released them and shifted until he was sat against the headboard.

There was near-silence for a few moments as Jonathan sat and Edward laid, then Jonathan reached over and collected the riding crop from its place on the sheets. He held it up in the air, mused over it, then reached over and delivered a smack to Edward’s right thigh.

Edward yelped in response, his head whipping around to deliver a confused, outraged frown Jonathan’s way, and Jonathan wagged the crop at him to scold him.

“That’s fer callin’ me ‘Jonathan’ at the end there,” he said, then reached over and tapped Edward’s nose teasingly with the tongue of the crop, making Edward purse his lips and scrunch his face, eyes narrowing on instinct. “Tsk, tsk, Edward. And after I gave you what you wanted, too. Such disrespect.”

Edward gave a little, “Hmph,” and Jonathan chuckled, his teasing being legitimate teasing and not anything intended to be sexual, then Jonathan stroked over Edward’s thigh and tummy with the crop’s tongue, making the younger male wiggle as it tickled his sensitive skin.

Sometimes, it was best to stroke Edward’s skin _after_ his orgasm, when he was still tender and sore, just as a final goodbye before the crop returned to Edward’s closet and Jonathan returned to his side as a lover, not a master. It certainly was a treat to watch him squirm, and Jonathan carried out the act for half a minute before he took the crop away and let Edward relax properly, which he did with an arm slung over his eyes.

Jonathan held the crop out horizontally before himself, observing it carefully, then he spoke casually, “I like this thing. We should use it more often.”

Edward puffed out a noise that was halfway between a chuckle and a groan. “Jon, darling,” he spoke, “we can use it as much as you damn well like.”


	6. Cock Worship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Not-so)Kinktober challenge, using Scriddler as the muse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Jonathan Crane, Edward Nygma; mentioned Selina Kyle.
> 
> Pairing: Jonathan Crane/Edward Nygma.
> 
> Warnings: NSFW content; mentions of alcohol.
> 
> Notes: Decided to take up the Kinktober challenge with my boys. I’m very much late because, to be honest, I didn’t know this was a thing. But, hey - learn something new everyday. Prompt responses will range from drabbles to full-on fics, depending on where the inspiration takes me.
> 
> All material belongs to DC Comics (although, my interpretations of the characters are used).
> 
> Extra summary: In which Edward is generous during a lazy morning.
> 
> Extra notes: So, I didn’t manage to finish this challenge in October (who knew October would turn out to be such a busy month for me, eh? My apologies), but I ain’t no damn quitter, so y’all can still expect updates to this challenge. Will now be a Kink…winter challenge. Because it’s cold outside but steamy inside. Or something. Ha.
> 
> Extra, extra notes: I absolutely despise this one. Thank Christ it’s short.
> 
> Day Six: Cock Worship

“Whoever thought, hm?” Edward said from his place down below Jonathan’s belt, laying betwixt his spread legs, fingers of his right hand wrapped around the older male’s erect cock. “Jonathan Crane, he who cares not for sex, wielding a weapon such as this.”

Jonathan let out a small noise from deep within his throat, shuffling slightly on the bed as Edward gave a few, snail-like pumps of his length, the Riddler’s grip loose so his fingers just brushed along the heated skin. Beyond that, Jonathan remained still, however much he wanted to move his hips to bring his cock closer to Edward’s loose fingers.

“I was surprised myself,” Edward went on, smiling to himself. “Do you remember? I was surprised; I wasn’t sure what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t this.” He leaned forward to press three kisses to the head of Jonathan’s cock. “I had a few little theories dancing around my head about what you were like, back when I was curious. All the way back when we became colleagues, fellow Rogues, before we truly  _despised_  each other. I remember talking to Selina about it.”

Jonathan grunted out of irritation.

He still didn’t like hearing about the times where Edward had unrequitedly lusted for him, as the Riddler had once done with all the other Rogues - out of pure curiosity of what each one of them was like in bed, not due to genuine affection. Nowadays, the majority of his lust was for Jonathan only, as was his affection, which was all fine and well, but Jonathan still disliked hearing of the old days. He disliked it even more so when Edward mentioned how he and Selina - both tipsy - had once jokingly swapped theories about Jonathan’s bedroom activities.

Apparently, Edward had claimed he thought Jonathan would be a demon in bed, since all the quiet ones were, and Selina had thought he was as much of a scarecrow in the sack as he was in everyday life - which was to say, she thought he’d be stiff and lifeless. It was almost insulting that both had been partially right, but at least Edward had gotten his sexuality correct; Selina had actually thought he was straight until he himself had told her otherwise.

“Now I know,” Edward added, sounding smug as he leaned down to press more kisses to Jonathan’s cock. He trailed them from the head down the shaft, coming to the base, where he gave a half-ring of kisses before trailing back up. When he reached the head again, Edward spoke again, in a tone caught between a coo and a moan, “You’re  _big_ …and so _thick.”_  He hummed in delight and leaned down to suck on the side of Jonathan’s shaft, prompting a light flinch.

Jonathan shuffled again, fingers curling lightly into the silk sheets. He kept his gaze on the ceiling, caught between his temptation to watch Edward work and his instinct to keep away from it.

“Now, I love your fingers,” Edward went on, “you know I do. Long, thin, able to get right to that perfect spot. Surprisingly, but fortunately, you take good care of your nails, so it never hurts. No, they’re lovely, your fingers. You know how to use them, don’t you? Of course you do. You’ve had practise.” He reached for one of Jonathan’s hands to take in one of his own and kiss those aforementioned, lovely fingers. Gently did he let go of his hand, then those lips returned to his length. “But, surprisingly or not…I like this just a bit more.”

He took the head into his mouth, just passed his lips.

It wasn’t often they partook in morning sex, given their different breakfast habits, but there was still leftover lust from the night before, the reason for their initial nudity. With that lust, there was the affection of the morning, where one awoke to find their love beside them, and that affection had fused with that lust, and now Edward was the one singing Jonathan’s praises.

A rare event, indeed, but sometimes Edward could be generous. How lucky Jonathan was to have such a skilled, generous, handsome lover.

His tongue travelled the diameter of the tip, putting pressure on the little hole as it passed over, and Jonathan shuffled beneath him again.

Giving a little hum at the reaction, Edward kissed down Jonathan’s shaft, speaking between kisses as he went, “I don’t believe I’ll call it the  _best_  I’ve ever had, if only to spare you of that ego trip, dearest. I’m not quite that generous, I’m afraid, but I will say…I do love it.” He opened his mouth and stroked the very edges of his teeth along the sensitive skin.

Jonathan flinched again, inhaling sharply, but otherwise didn’t react.

“You know how to use it, of course. Very well. And I do enjoy our sessions.” He trailed kisses up and down the shaft, taking his sweet time. “I love pleasuring you, for one. Having it in my mouth, my hand, my rear, watching you trying to keep a hold of yourself, that moment where you start to come undone but don’t want to admit it. Bless you for trying, but I’m rather marvellous in bed, dear. You know this well, so I don’t see why you hide it. Pride, I imagine.” He hummed thoughtfully, pressing a kiss to the tip.

Jonathan frowned deeply, but didn’t reply.

Edward dragged his lips along the skin of the shaft, revelling in how warm Jonathan’s erection had gotten in his impatience for release; a lazy morning, it might’ve been, but pent up, they still were.

He went on, “Big as it is, it fits so well, even in my mouth. And I revel in the feeling.” He looked up to Jonathan’s face, only to falter when he saw Jonathan wasn’t even watching.

Frowning, Edward reached up and patted at Jonathan’s tummy to get his attention. “Jon. Look at me, Jon.”

Jonathan grunted.

“Jon…Oh, for Pete’s sake - Jon, look. I’m being generous to you this morning, and now you won’t even look. It’s not as if you haven’t seen this before, come on.” A kiss was placed upon his tip. “No more of this bashfulness, please. There’s only so much of it I can take before it gets taxing.”

Jonathan’s frown tightened, clearly thinking some rather unkind things about Edward, and he grunted again before taking the bait and casting his gaze down at his lover, expression stern. “I am not bashful.”

Edward smirked, the feeling of victory swarming his chest and making him puff out a little chuckle. “Then you won’t mind watching as I…” He trailed off, rising up a bit on his hands before taking Jonathan’s length into his mouth, stopping halfway to look up at his lover, who inhaled sharply through his nose.

Edward hummed around the length, causing vibrations along the shaft, which brought a muffled noise from behind Jonathan’s lips. Edward stroked up and down the half that he hadn’t taken in, using the pads of his fingers to brush against the skin, feeling the cock twitch in his mouth. It made him smirk around it, then he assaulted the tip with his tongue.

Jonathan groaned, a low noise from deep within his throat, more like a creak in the floorboards than a genuine moan. Despite himself, he reached down to place a hand upon the back of Edward’s head, trying to guide him downwards.

Edward chuckled. Already, Jonathan had grown impatient, but he supposed that was reasonable; it was the morning, after all, and they had their schedules to keep. If Edward was going to give him a morning blowjob, he’d better be quick about it.

Edward chuckled again, but nonetheless drew circles around the head of Jonathan’s cock with his tongue, coming to wrap his fingers around the half he hadn’t taken in and pumping slowly. Feeling Jonathan’s fingers coursing through his hair, he began bobbing his head lightly, the smallest movements that were enough to provide stimulation, but not nearly enough to satisfy.

It brought little noises from Jonathan, things he kept desperately muffled with his ever-persistent closed lips, and Edward looked up at him as he bobbed his head for thirty more seconds before removing his mouth entirely from him, prompting Jonathan to frown. He tried to push Edward’s head back down, but Edward held firm, prompting a small growl of impatience from Jonathan.

Edward smiled innocently at first, then leaned down to pepper kisses along his shaft.

“That helps, of course,” Edward chattered on, picking up from where he left off. “The taste, I mean.” He smirked. “You taste good, Jon, I enjoy it. A mighty convenient bonus, if you ask me. They don’t all taste the same, despite what people say, and I’ve had less pleasant.”

He peppered more firm kisses to his skin, then gave the erection a slight pull, holding it away from himself so he could better angle the kisses he pressed in a trail down the shaft, all the way to the base, then down to Jonathan’s testicles, one of which he took into his mouth to suck on and write riddles on with his tongue.

Jonathan inhaled sharply, back arching slightly off the mattress, toes curling, and he let out another muffled noise. His fingers curled into Edward’s hair, nails digging lightly into his scalp, making Edward hum into the testicle he had betwixt his lips.

Edward pleasured them both equally, rolling them over his tongue, sucking on them, moaning around them to provide stimulating vibrations, and Jonathan returned the favour by giving him a scalp massage that bordered on painful, just how Edward liked it.

“Whoever knew,” Edward said as he removed his lips from him, earning another barely-heard growl of impatience, “that Jonathan Crane would have anything quite so impressive? I was fairly certain you hadn’t even heard of sex, and yet…” He chuckled at his own joke. “You possess this. And I simply adore it.”

Jonathan puffed out air from his nostrils in such a way that it caught Edward’s attention; the Riddler raised his head to find Crane glaring down at him, eyes half-lidded in exasperation. “…Yer awful chatty this mornin’, Edward.”

Edward smirked. “I thought you liked to hear me?”

“Not like this.”

Edward chuckled and, sensing the chance for a challenge, allowed his smirk to turn mischievous. “Then you’d best  _get me_  to make the correct noises, hm?”

Jonathan’s expression hardened, lips pressing together and gaze turning steely, then he let out a noise that sounded halfway between a grunt and a growl as he suddenly reached down to grab at Edward’s arm.

Edward squealed as he was dragged up from his place between Jonathan’s legs and practically thrown onto the mattress, in his spot on their bed.

Their lazy morning was about get a whole lot less lazy, but Edward couldn’t say he was complaining, not when he was about to have a whole new level of appreciation for Jonathan’s equipment.


	7. Aphrodisiacs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Not-so)Kinktober challenge, using Scriddler as the muse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Jonathan Crane, Pamela Isley, Bernie, Edward Nygma; mentioned Joker, Oswald Cobblepot, Harley Quinn, Selina Kyle.
> 
> Pairing: Jonathan Crane/Edward Nygma. Mentioned Pamela Isley/Harley Quinn.
> 
> Warnings: NSFW content, accidental drugging, bodily harm, blood.
> 
> Notes: Decided to take up the Kinktober challenge with my boys. I’m very much late because, to be honest, I didn’t know this was a thing. But, hey - learn something new everyday. Prompt responses will range from drabbles to full-on fics, depending on where the inspiration takes me. 
> 
> All material belongs to DC Comics (although, my interpretations of the characters are used). 
> 
> Extra summary: Jonathan has an unfortunate mishap in Poison Ivy’s greenhouse, which turns into a very fortunate situation for Edward.
> 
> Extra notes: I guess this counts more as sex pollen than anything, but it was where my mind went first. Featuring the lady who pretty much made sex pollen a thing.
> 
> Day Seven: Aphrodisiacs.

 Jonathan’s hand was just about to close around the flower’s head when a voice called out to him.

“And just  _what_  do you think  _you’re_  doing?”

Before Jonathan could even turn around to address the owner of this luxurious greenhouse, there was a tight grip on his ankle and he was pulled straight off of his feet by a vine thicker than his arm (which wasn’t much of a feat), up into the air and dangled upside-down over the very desk he’d been standing before just seconds ago.

Jonathan cursed as he was elevated, arms flailing as he went, and he was working on adjusting to being upside-down when he caught sight of the other Rogue.

Calm as ever, his sense of fear having been taken away years ago, Jonathan nodded politely in greeting. “Dr. Isley.”

Pamela Isley regarded him with a look of patient irritation, the exact same kind a teacher who wanted to throttle their bad students would use. Arms folded, one finger tapped against her own elbow joint in a steady, slow rhythm, then Pamela cocked her head with a poison-laced smile (literally).

“Dr. Crane.” She looked him up and down. “Any particular reason you’re in my greenhouse?”

“Oh, y’know,” Jonathan said casually, giving a shrug despite having his arms dangling down below his head, “jus’ came ta…admire,” he gestured vaguely around them, at the mass amount of plants that occupied the rest of the glass house’s space, “…yer babies.”

Pamela’s lips turned up at one side, either in amusement at his lame lie or out of genuine affection for her children. She held out her right hand, calling upon a vine’s attention; it slithered down to her like a snake and she pet at it gently, letting it curl around her wrist as, behind her, a flower larger than the front door carefully lifted Pamela off of her feet and let her sit upon it like a giant beanbag chair. She gave no reaction at all beyond a smile.

Jonathan supposed he admired how passionate she was about her chosen topic, but even he found the motherly attitude toward plants a bit weird. Luckily, he was wearing his mask, and so Pamela had no idea of how strange he found this plant-petting.

“They deserve to be admired,” Pamela cooed, then turned back to Jonathan with the same icy smile, “but we both know that’s not why you’re here.”

“Do we?”

“We do.”

Jonathan bobbed his head slowly in a nod, averting his eyes as he tried to think. His gaze drifted downwards, looking to the desk he’d been trying to steal the purple and white, potted plant from. It sat there still, behind the chemistry set that, thankfully, didn’t currently involve any boiling or burning (that would’ve been a disaster he wasn’t prepared to handle), just powders and liquids.

So close and yet so far; now how to reach down and grab the stupid plant?

“I think,” Pamela went on, resting her chin in her free hand, “you were just trying to steal from me.”

“Whaaat?” Jonathan replied. “Nooo. No, nothin’ like that.”

“Mm-hm.”

“No. Surely not. What would I want with yer child? Other than to admit their beauty.” He frowned. That had sounded better in his head; it was a good thing they were talking about flowers here.

“Oh, I don’t know.” The flower on which Pamela sat inched closer toward him as she tilted her head in fake thought, then she finally let her smile drop as she scowled at him, tone bitter and angry, “Perhaps to  _cut up_  and  _mix_  into that disgusting  _toxin_  of yours?”

Jonathan stared at her in silence for a few moments, then raised an index finger, which now pointed toward the ground rather than up at the ceiling.

“My toxin,” he said carefully, “is not disgusting. And yer no better with yer stuff, so don’t gimme that.”

 _“I_ don’t  _murder_  plants for mine.”

(Right, right, the plants made ‘sacrifices’. Jonathan resisted the urge to point out the similarities.)

“Neither do I. Usually. It’s just this particular strain requires -”

“I don’t  _care_  what it  _requires,”_  Pamela snapped, a brief flash of green veins beneath her brown skin, twisted and poisonous and looking not unlike the vines that surrounded them. “You are  _not_  killing any of my _children_  for it.” Her expression dropped into a pout. “What kind of mother would I be then…?”

“One that understands the concept of ‘one must die fer the good of many’.”

Wrong choice of words; Pamela immediately scowled and threw an arm out toward him.

The gesture summoned a second vine to shoot toward Crane like a dart, coiling around his left arm and tugging it until Crane was bent nearly in half, a sharp pain and then a dull, irritating ache immediately settling into the bend of his spine. Jonathan hissed lightly and tilted his head back to look at Pamela.

“You  _disgust_ me,” she spat, the green veins stretching across the vast plain under her skin, practically glowing as she grew increasingly angry. “How  _dare_  you step  _foot_  in my greenhouse, disturb my children and  _dare_  attempt to  _kill one,_  right under my  _roof?”_

“Yer certainly speakin’ like a mom…” Jonathan muttered sarcastically (not that he would know how a mother spoke), then spoke louder for her to hear, “Look, what if I told you I was gonna use it on the Joker? Huh?”

“Then I’d tell  _you_  that your toxin doesn’t work on him.”

“Ah.” Jonathan glanced to the side. “Was hopin’ you didn’t know that.”

Pamela growled lowly from deep within her throat, leaning in a clear command for her plant chair to move forward, and Jonathan raised a finger again. “Look, Dr. Isley, why don’t we jus’ pretend this didn’t happen an’ move on, huh?”

“You’re trying to  _bargain_  with  _me?”_  Pamela said icily, scowl deepening.

“Hm. Yeah, I know. Stupid move.” Jonathan nodded casually, then sighed. “Alright, doctor. You’ve forced my hand.” He ignored how Pamela began to sneer in nasty amusement, instead focusing his gaze upon the tunnel at the end of the room, down which the front door would be, and shouting,  _“Now, Edward!”_

 _“What?!”_  Pamela quickly whipped around to the spot he was looking at, expecting to see a smug Riddler with a knife or perhaps his own lit torch, ready to take down her plants, save his boyfriend and claim Crane’s prize - but there was none.

Edward wasn’t there.

Pamela’s scowl deepened as realisation hit her and she turned back just in time to see Crane use his sickle to slice through the vines holding him captive; the cut vines flailed in the air, spewing chlorophyll.

_“NO!”_

The chopped-off ends fell to the desk below, draping weakly over the beakers and test tubes, and Jonathan very soon followed. His body crashed into the desk, shattering the glass and breaking the table in two, and he cursed loudly as his arm was cut by a sharp piece of wood jutting out from one of the halves. It tore through the sleeve of his costume, cutting the skin below and making it bleed, and Crane hurriedly twisted onto his belly to try and get up. The bare skin of his arm pressed into a pile of yellow dust and glass shards and he hissed in pain before scrambling to his feet.

Ignoring the glass shards jutting out from his costume, some long enough and embedded deep enough to have penetrated his skin, Jonathan sprinted for the exit, calling to Pamela quickly, “Always a pleasure, Dr. Isley!”

 _“You monster!”_  Pamela shrieked, hurrying off of her plant chair to grasp at the flailing, chopped vines to caress and comfort.  _“Murderer!”_

“This is hardly news!” Jonathan shouted back, coming to the entrance of the glass tunnel leading out of there.

Pamela screeched in rage and threw out gestures all around her, and the lines of flowers, bushes and vines that laced the tunnel’s sides began drawing closer together, closing in upon Crane, who continued to sprint as quickly as he could toward the light at the end.

Leaves rustling all around him, Jonathan’s heart pounded with pure adrenaline as he tore through the soil path to the entrance, feeling the plants brushing his ankles as they quickly closed in, trying to trap him within the flora. The plants up ahead were coming to life, shaking as they took in Pamela’s commands, and soon the light up ahead was shrinking, the plants coming together to block his path and trap him in there with Pamela.

Hell, they’d probably skip straight to turning him into plant food - and that was an occupation Jonathan wasn’t willing to take up.

Crane sucked in a breath and picked up speed, using his sheer will to live as fuel; he raced down the path, waiting until the last second before diving forward and through the small circle of light still available to him, out of the tunnel’s exit, just as the last of the shrubbery came together to create a blockage to the greenhouse.

Before Pamela could continue the pursuit, Jonathan scrambled to his feet and tore off home, cursing himself aloud for his brashness, decision not to wait for a better time to try and nab the plant, and for his inability to talk to women.

 

…

 

By the time Jonathan got home, his body felt odd - and by ‘odd’, he meant it felt like it was on  _fire._

The first thing Jonathan did upon returning to he and Edward’s abode was stagger into the bathroom on the ground level of the house to remove his costume, leaving himself in his boxers. From there, he went to the cabinet above the sink to get disinfectant, bandages and the tweezers Edward used to pluck his eyebrows. He twisted the tap for the cold water and went to work.

The long cut on his arm was the first to be addressed; Jonathan picked the glass and few splinters out from the wound, hissing lightly when he was forced to dig the tweezers into his skin to grab the glass that had gone too far. The shards were deposited into the bin nearby, then Jonathan frowned at the light dusting of yellow powder on his skin. He brushed it off with his hand, then washed that hand under the running water. He splashed some more around his wound to clean it of both powder and blood, then went about applying the disinfectant and wrapping his forearm in bandages.

When that was done, he saw to the rest of the glass that had gotten into his skin, creating a scattered litter in the bin, then sat down on the edge of the bathtub to pick out the pieces from his costume.

As he sat there, a frown grew upon his face and he twitched lightly.

Was it always so hot in here? He felt…very, very hot. In his face, mainly; a quick glance in the mirror revealed the tomato-red colour his skin had become and that only made him frown more. What on earth was happening? He gave an uncomfortable twitch of the shoulder, turning his head this way and that to try and relieve himself of the feeling. It didn’t go away.

His mind made a quick assumption; Jonathan groaned. “Better not have been any damn lavender in that place…”

He wasn’t sneezing or breaking out in a rash, but one couldn’t be too careful. Just in case, he paused in his cleaning of his costume and reached for the cabinet, taking out the bottle of allergy pills and popping one into his mouth. He used a handful of water to get it down, then returned to his previous task.

When he was finally done seeing to the glass, Jonathan put back his supplies and left the bathroom to go to the bedroom instead, scratching at his face along the way. He put his Scarecrow costume into his closet and collected his usual combination of jeans, a t-shirt and his flannel shirt despite the heat in his body. He wasn’t the type to walk around in his underwear, even if Edward had seen him in less. Replacing his contact lenses with his glasses, he left the bedroom.

He went to his basement study next and fed a couple of peanuts to Bernie before settling in his chair to work. While his mouse squeaked away in her cage and hastily nibbled upon the nut in her tiny paws, Jonathan sat and tried to get himself to pick up his pen and write, but the tight heat in his body was too distracting. He was sweating now and panting lightly, using one hand to wipe at his forehead.

The study was too stuffy and too small; he couldn’t stay here, it was unbearable, and Jonathan walked briskly out the door after almost falling out of his chair.

He found settlement on the middle sofa out of the three in the living room, sitting there with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. He would’ve been lamenting his failure at getting the ingredient for his toxin, feeling embarrassed at himself for his foolishness, but his current condition was just too distracting.

The heat was spreading, pooling in his belly and just below, and he groaned to himself. It was getting insufferable, he was almost tempted to see if he could peel his skin off with the blunt ends of his nails; the universe was against him, however, for it felt as though his clothing tightened with the mere thought, he could practically count every stitch in his jeans. In the back of his mind, he recognised the feeling, particularly the way his boxers suddenly seemed stifling.

It couldn’t be what he thought it was, could it? Surely not; he wasn’t that type of man. One could ask Edward, Crane wasn’t the type to just…get in the mood. But this heat - he was blushing, completely flushed and almost tempted to jump into a cold shower to relieve himself of it.

In fact - that sounded like a great idea.

Jonathan rose from the sofa carefully, stumbling lightly, and pulled at his t-shirt to try and get air onto his chest. Sweat had developed over the skin there - hell, sweat was  _everywhere,_  to the point that he could feel his hair dampen against his forehead and the top of his neck.

He was almost at the bathroom’s entrance when the front door opened.

“Jonathan, dear, I’m home! And guess who won Cards Night  _again!”_

_Oh, Jesus, no._

Edward Nygma stepped gracefully around the door of their home, shoes clutched in one hand and cane in the other. He closed the door with his hip, depositing his dress shoes on the shoe rack nearby. A bright grin was on his face, eyes practically glittering with joy; the domino mask was the only part of his Riddler outfit that was missing, more than likely an instruction from Oswald as to not abuse a poker face.

“I swear, Oswald’s going to stop inviting me one of these days,” Edward was saying, chuckling to himself. “He probably ought to because -  _boy,_  am  _I_  betting  _him_  out of house and home!” He laughed again as he went to turn to Jonathan. “Before long, if he’s not careful, the Iceberg Lounge itself will be all he has to gi - Good  _Lord!”_

The sight before him made the grin fall immediately: Jonathan, leant against the shared corner of the walls that led to the bathroom and the stairs, bright red in the face, drooping where he stood and panting harshly, hair mussed up and eyes barely open, a layer of bandages on his left arm and little cuts across the other.

Edward looked him up and down. “What happened to  _you?”_

“I…” Jonathan tried, then shook his head. “I don’t feel good, Ed. Let me just…” He tried to step toward the bathroom’s open doorway, one hand reaching for it, but Edward was speeding forward and taking him by the arm.

“Come and sit down, come on,” Edward was saying, pulling him over to the couch he’d sat upon before Edward had returned home.

Jonathan wanted to wrench his arm away, tell Edward not to touch him -  _please, God, don’t touch him_  - but all he managed was a weak gesture at the bathroom. “No - No, wait, ya don’t understand…”

Edward got him back over to the sofa and sat him down, taking the seat beside him as he looked him over, setting his cane down on the floor by their feet. He tilted his head to try and view Jonathan’s face, as Jonathan almost immediately doubled over, one arm around his tummy to try and hide his crotch and the other hand pressing against his face to hide how it burned.

“What’s happened?” Edward asked, then took Jonathan’s left arm and pulled until it came free from around his waist; it was quite a fight, during which Edward gave Jonathan an incredulous look, then he looked over the bandages when he finally managed to get them in front of his face. He gently touched them with his gloved fingers. “What’ve you done to yourself? You’ve hurt yourself, look.”

“Fell,” Jonathan said within a grunt.

“Oh, really?”

“Yes.”

“Where? Down the stairs? Against a wall? Use that excuse again and people might think I’m beating you.”

(As if he could.)

“Into a desk. Lots of glass,” Jonathan answered.

Edward frowned confusedly, wondering how Jonathan could’ve fallen upon his own desk, then realised it wasn’t  _his_  desk he was referring to. When that realisation came, Edward’s shoulders fell and he rolled his eyes. “Oh, good grief - you broke into Pamela’s greenhouse, didn’t you?”

“Mm,” Jonathan replied from within his hand.

Edward huffed. “I  _thought_  you were going to do that  _next_  week, when Harley said she and Pamela were leaving for a day or two to see Selina in Spain.”

“Got impatient…Greedy…Wanted my toxin  _now…”_

“Clearly.” Edward sighed, then clicked his tongue and shook his head to scold him. “Well, you’ve made your bed, now you lay in it, you silly thing. What did that bitch do to you?”

The venom in Edward’s words didn’t shock Jonathan; he’d despised Pamela since the incident long before he and Jonathan had gotten together, where Pamela had seduced him, only to drug him and take his house and make it a temporary base for herself, Harley and - eventually - Selina. He’d awoken to find his house in tatters; Selina got back into his good graces by paying for the damages, Harley was lucky he was still speaking to her, and Pamela could go to hell.

“She didn’t exactly…She had me danglin’, I cut the vine -”

“Good. I hope she cried.”

“- an’ fell…fell onto a desk, got covered in glass…touched somethin’…”

“Touched what?” Edward was looking him up and down again, then slid backwards, away from him, and recoiled. “God - did you clean yourself? I don’t want any of that harlot’s experiments on me.” He looked over his hands critically.

“Yeah, I -” Jonathan turned his head to look at Edward amidst his answer, and immediately wished he hadn’t.

Edward was sitting there, looking the same as ever, in his Riddler suit and his hat and his gloves and his purple socks with the green question marks that Jonathan knew, from experience, were held up with sock garters that had little question marks as the pins; with his slicked back, dark brown hair and his carefully clipped and combed sideburns and plucked eyebrows and perfectly shaved face and creamy skin and beautiful, green eyes behind clean, rectangular glasses. He looked the same as ever and yet Jonathan couldn’t take his eyes off of him, for he was breathtaking and gorgeous and Jonathan just wanted to take hold of him and - and - and -

Jonathan groaned desperately into his palm and reached for a pillow from where it was leant against the couch’s arm, snatching it from its place and pushing it into his lap to cover his crotch. He tried to hide his eyes again, but ended up peeking over his hand at Edward, noticing every curve and every straight line of his face, just in time to see Edward’s frown.

“Jon?” Edward asked. “What’s wrong? What symptoms do you have? Come on, we can work up a cure.”

He reached for Jonathan again, one hand going to his shoulder to steady him, then he was blinking with surprise as Jonathan leaned on him, bottom half of his face coming to press into Edward’s collarbone. Confused, his heart squeezing lightly with concern and affection, Edward loosely hugged him with one arm.

On Edward’s shoulder, Jonathan thought about how soft Edward’s clothes were in contrast to the hard surface of his bones beneath his skin, and that only made him groan again. He inhaled deeply, taking in Edward’s scent, and his eyes almost rolled into the back of his head as he grew drunk on it, his jeans unbearably tight now and the pillow becoming an offender rather than a defender.

Edward tilted his head slightly to look at him. “Are you smelling me?”

“Mm.” Jonathan did so again. “You smell divine.”

Edward raised an eyebrow, put-off by Jonathan’s complimenting him. That didn’t happen often, especially not as forwardly as now. “…Thank you. I did shower before I left, and I am wearing cologne. The usual; I didn’t know you liked it so much.”

“I do. It’s lovely. You’re lovely,” Jonathan said, then tilted his head to press a kiss to Edward’s neck.

Edward flinched, shocked, then frowned tightly and looked down at the pillow in Jonathan’s lap. Jonathan hadn’t put that pillow there for no reason and anybody could figure out why people usually did that, it didn’t take a genius. It didn’t, and this genius now knew exactly what was going on here.

Frowning still, he pushed Jonathan back with one hand planted firmly on his chest, stared at him for a moment, watched him pant, then he reached down and yanked the pillow from Jonathan’s lap.

“Wait -” Jonathan said, just as it came away, and the bulge in the front of his jeans was revealed.

Silence came over them for a few moments (besides Jonathan’s deep panting), both men staring downwards, then Edward said, “Ah.”

And then he promptly burst into laughter.

Jonathan flinched and stared at Edward in confused irritation, watching as he fell back upon the couch cushions in his laughter, hugging himself as he cackled to the ceiling. His laughter was partially muffled when he tilted his head halfway into the couch cushions, then it returned in full-force as Edward projected it to the ceiling again.

“Oh, my God!” Edward exclaimed when his laughter died enough for him to speak again. “Oh, my God! Oh, Jon, oh, Jon…” He laughed again, then wiped a tear from his eye. “Oh, dear, I thought you’d fallen in something life-threatening, the way you’re sloppily moving about. But no, it’s - ah- _ha!_  - it’s an aphrodisiac! You’ve fallen in an aphrodisiac!” He cackled again, then wagged a finger. “And what’s more: you tried to hide it from me!” He laughed, then directed an incredulous look Jonathan’s way. “Jon, I’m your _boyfriend,”_ he gestured to Jonathan’s crotch, “I’ve had that here,” he directed a thumb to his left, “there,” he pointed the other thumb to the right, “and everywhere!” He turned his hands around so the thumbs would point in their respective opposite directions, then burst into laughter again.

Jonathan frowned in return, the new heat in his face developing not due to the aphrodisiac, but due to embarrassment. “I  _know_  what it is, Ed. You think I wanna announce that I - hngh - that I’m feelin’ bad cause I fell in some powder that gets me in the mood?”

“No, but -  _pfft_  - but the  _pillow_ …Oh, good grief…” Edward wiped another tear from his eye, then his laughter died down to a few spare chuckles that sounded fond rather than mocking. With the pads of his fingers, he tilted Jonathan’s chin up slightly and cooed, “You silly thing. You’re lucky I find it charming nowadays.” He tilted his head. “Getting embarrassed about being turned on. What am I going to do with you?”

Jonathan groaned. “I weren’t  _embarrassed_ about it, I was -”

“Embarrassed about the circumstances. Yes, well, I’m sure it is rather humiliating getting horny just because you fell in some plant lover’s concoction. Usually, that takes me cooking you a steak, scaring someone half to death or putting on one of those outfits that you love.”

Jonathan pictured Edward doing all three and promptly groaned in ecstasy.

Edward chuckled and gave him a little pout. “You poor thing. It is funny, though, how this happened to  _you,_  of all people. Out of the two of us, one would expect it more likely for  _me_  to be infected with sex pollen rather than you. An intense kind too, by the looks of it, but that is to be expected from Poison Ivy, after all.”

“Sex pollen…?”

“Yes. The internet can tell you all about it.”

“I don’t wanna know…”

“No, you don’t,” Edward said in amusement, looking down at Jonathan’s crotch again.

Jonathan groaned. “’m losin’ my mind…”

“Because you’re so horny. That’s a new one for your Arkham file.” Edward snorted, then cleared his throat and frowned. “Well, it is rather insulting that  _I’ve_  never gotten you into this state, that  _Pamela Isley_  technically did -”

“Was an accident…”

“- but I suppose I’ll have to live with it.” He huffed, then cocked his head. “So. What do you propose to do about this?”

Jonathan looked down at himself. The thought of a cold shower was still so tempting, the heat in his body was agonising and his cock was hard enough to be painful, and he shuffled lightly and did his best to ignore how devastatingly beautiful Edward looked beside him. “I was just gonna take a cold shower…”

“Hm. That might work, yes,” Edward said, bobbing his head. “Then again, so does the…good old fashioned way.” He shrugged casually. “If you wish to, I mean.”

Jonathan looked to him, trying to muster up his best  _‘are you kidding me?’_  look, but the thought had already occurred to him. What option was more appealing, after all, when Edward was sitting so radiantly beside him? What else could he think of to settle this intense arousal than making love to his partner, a  _shower?_  That might’ve settled the heat, but his cravings…

What he was embarrassed to call a whimper fell from Jonathan’s shut lips and he let his hand slowly fall, letting his contemplation become clear, and Edward chuckled deviously.

“Thought so,” he chirped, then stood up from the sofa. He pointed at his spot. “Lay there.”

Jonathan slid into Edward’s spot, caught between laying down and sitting up as he slouched against the corner where the sofa’s arm met its back.

Edward removed his hat first of all, placing it down upon the coffee table where it would be safe, then he slipped off his blazer, revealing the green braces with the purple question marks that held up his trousers. He folded that carefully and set it upon the couch to his left, then smoothed a hand over his hair and went to undo his tie. From beneath his eyelashes, he directed a heated look Jonathan’s way, and it prompted him to whimper again. That only made Edward smirk as he slid the tie free from beneath his collar.

The gloves went next, pinched at the top of the middle finger and pulled off of smooth skin, then Edward was returning to his blazer to pick out a small case.

Jonathan tilted his head confusedly, having never seen this before, and watched as Edward opened it and plucked out two square-shaped packets. One was clearly a condom, but the other?

“What’s that?” Jonathan asked amidst a pant.

“Lubricant,” Edward replied, holding it up to show him. “Easier to carry than a bottle. Though, I only have one…” He muttered thoughtfully, then set both packets and the case down on the table and pointed at Jonathan. “Stay.”

Jonathan swallowed thickly, the heat in his face rising, and he was ashamed to say he stared at Edward’s arse as he passed him to go to their second bathroom, where he disappeared, and Jonathan heard him open the squeaky cabinet door. Jonathan couldn’t say he’d noticed packets of lubricant in there, he hadn’t paid attention to anything but the supplies he’d needed before.

Edward returned to him with five more packets in total and set them with the others, then collected them all up and placed them in a pile on the sofa’s arm.

Jonathan turned his head to look; Edward had not only collected more lubricant, but more condoms. He knew him so well.

His attention was directed away, however, when Edward slid into his lap, knees on either side of his hips, straddling him and smirking at him with smug narcissism.

“You poor thing,” Edward repeated, practically cooing, passing a hand through Jonathan’s damp hair. He reached down to press slow kisses to Jonathan’s jawline. “You’ve had a rough day, haven’t you?”

Jonathan groaned from the kisses alone, pushing his hips upwards to rub his crotch against Edward’s rear, drawing a happy little hum from the younger man.

“Impatient,” Edward chided, then leaned in to press a kiss to Jonathan’s lips.

The kiss was almost immediately deep and passionate, Jonathan desperate to get things going, almost appearing to be attempting to devour Edward rather than kiss him, and Edward was deeply amused by it. He’d never seen Jonathan so desperate for sex before, not even when Edward himself had seduced him and gotten him excited.

Edward gave little rocks of his hips, grinding them down against Jonathan’s, causing the older male to moan against his lips. He could feel Jonathan’s erection through his jeans and it only made him smirk, then he pulled back to break the kiss and looked Jonathan in the eye as he reached down for his belt buckle, unfastening it and slipping a hand into his jeans to rub at him.

As soon as Edward’s fingers made contact with his clothed cock, Jonathan tilted his head back and moaned, unable to hold himself back. The aphrodisiac in his system made the feeling more of pleasant agony than anything, and Jonathan couldn’t wait for the pollen’s effects to wear off so he could be free of it.

Edward smirked wickedly at him, then slipped his hand out of his jeans and waited until he was looking at him before he reached to push his braces off of his shoulders, letting them slide down his arms. He untucked his arms from them, let them hang by his hips, then ground his rear into Jonathan’s crotch again, making him whimper. Edward chuckled sadistically, then pressed his hands to his partner’s collarbone as he slid off of his lap and stood before him.

Giving him another heated look with half-lidded eyes and a devious smile, Edward stroked over his own chest with both hands, outlining his pectorals beneath his purple and green shirt, then slid his hands down his torso, smoothing out his shirt and showing off his slim figure. His hands travelled back up to his green collar, where he began slowly unbuttoning his shirt, letting the halves split apart to reveal his toned chest. He stroked down it with his middle fingers, outlining his pectorals again, but kept the shirt on.

Jonathan watched his every move, licking his lips slowly and giving a tiny, deep whine as the heat grew worse. So much so, he leaned his head back on the sofa and his expression grew slightly pained.

“Edward…” He muttered.

“Do you want me, Jon?” Edward asked, smirking at him and giving his hips a little wiggle.

“Yes…God, yes…”

“What was that? Couldn’t hear you.” Edward cupped his left ear. “Speak louder, please.”

“Yes…!”

“One more time?”

“Yes!” Jonathan snapped. “Fer fuck’s sake, yes! Jus’ get on with it, will ya?!”

Edward’s smirk faltered. “No need to be rude. Keep that up, and I will leave you in the capable care of your right hand.” There was a moment, then he slapped a hand to his cheek in faux surprise. “Oh, but that’s right: you don’t do that sort of thing.”

Jonathan frowned. It wasn’t his fault that masturbation just never did the trick for him; he always felt awkward doing it, the few times he’d tried, and could never conjure up any mental images nor buy any magazines or look up any pictures that provided him with the right amount of arousal to really get things going. The media just never had what he was looking for, men with so many muscles just weren’t his thing. It was why he’d always gone out to gay bars to pick up men for the night - much more variety.

Edward wagged a finger at him. “Then you’d best be kind to me, eh?” He snorted, then ran a hand down his chest again. “Luckily for you, I was rather in the mood myself. You know what victory does for me.”

Considering the way he would sometimes pounce upon Jonathan after a successful heist and ride him like nobody’s business, Jonathan absolutely knew what victory did for him.

“It’s a shame you decided to be so nasty,” Edward went on, smoothing a hand over his stomach, “I was just about to tell you how much I want  _you.”_  The hand stroked down his belly to his crotch, where it circled lightly, making sure Jonathan’s attention was brought with it. “How I’d like you to touch me, pleasure me, make me yours.” Edward watched his own hand longingly, then looked to Jonathan, faking innocence. “Isn’t that what you want too?”

Jonathan nodded twice.

“Well, then,” Edward cocked his head, “you ought to be nicer to me, hm?”

Jonathan growled softly, impatient and irritated, but nonetheless nodded again, if only to get what he wanted.

Edward smirked. “Good boy.”

He reached for the front of his trousers, sliding the hook from the bar that kept them closed, then pushed them down his hips and let them fall down his legs, pooling around his ankles and leaving him in only his shirt, socks with their garters and question mark boxers. He slid his hands down his thighs, then back up again to pull the short legs of his boxers up, showing more skin.

With a dainty little step, he got free of his trousers once and for all, stooping down to pick them up and fold them, setting them down with his blazer, purposefully bending to direct his arse at Jonathan for him to look at.

Jonathan - in his drunk, mindless, lust-filled state - absolutely did look, and hated himself for it.

Edward smirked knowingly, gave his hips a little wiggle, then sauntered back to the couch. With the pads of his fingers, he tipped Jonathan’s chin again, if only to make him look Edward in the eye as he gave him a smirk. One perfect eyebrow arched in silent taunting, then Edward let those fingers trail down Jonathan’s chest, making sure to brush over one of his covered nipples, and they found their way to Jonathan’s jeans.

Edward got to his knees to pull them down, if only to tease the idea that he would suck his partner’s cock, and took his sweet time in doing so.

Jonathan was hurriedly lifting himself to allow for this to happen. He attempted to do away with the underwear too, but Edward’s fingers hooked only on denim and not cotton, and Jonathan groaned with impatience when Edward tut-tutted at his attempts to get his boxers down.

“Fer fuck’s sake…!” Jonathan exclaimed as he panted, one hand pressed into the top of the couch, bracing himself.

“I just don’t think we’re ready for that, dear,” Edward said innocently. “I haven’t even been stretched yet.”

Jonathan groaned again, the heat in his face unbearable, his cock actually hurting now, and he briefly wondered if Pamela had meant for this stuff to kill if the victim didn’t get their sex quick enough. Banishing the thought, he reached for one of the square packets of lubricant, only for his hand to be slapped away by Edward.

A surprised look cast his way, Edward shrugged a shoulder casually. “I want to do it.”

 _Oh, Lord, have mercy on my fuckin’ soul,_  was the first thing Jonathan thought of, eyes bugging out of his head at the thought.

Had he ever seen Edward do this part before? He didn’t think so. He knew Edward only wanted to do it now to prolong the actual sex, to tease him in his time of horrible need, but he couldn’t bring himself to be cross about that.

Edward plucked up the packet Jonathan had reached for, then reclaimed his spot in Jonathan’s lap. With one hand, he edged his own boxers - white with red question marks, playing it up a little - down far enough to expose his rear, keeping his cock (which had to be at least half-hard by now) covered, then pulled up the hem of his shirt to get it out of the way. With both hands, he ripped open the packet and held it up so Jonathan could watch as he squeezed out the lubricant onto his fingers. He smoothed it out to make sure his digits were covered, then he set one hand to the couch’s top and reached behind him with the other.

Spreading his legs a little wider, Edward reached back, circled his entrance with one finger to tease and ready himself, then carefully slipped in the tip, up to the first joint.

He got a pleased hum out of himself and a whimper from Jonathan, who looked Edward up and down like he would suddenly develop x-ray vision and could watch from there. He didn’t particularly wish to watch, but the fact that Edward was  _doing it,_  right here in his  _lap,_  when he was as turned on as he was right now - it was almost too much to bear. He was surprised he hadn’t cum in his boxers already, and wondered if that was a symptom of Pamela’s pollen as well.

Jesus  _Christ,_ why had she even invented this fucking stuff?! Literally ‘fucking stuff’!

“Jon…” Edward moaned softly, eyes shut, and Jonathan knew he’d slipped his entire index finger in. It was the same reaction he gave when Jonathan did it.

Jonathan covered his mouth with his hand, unwilling to let anymore noises slip out, and watched as Edward prepped himself, gently sliding his finger in and out before adding a second.

Edward gave a little moan as he pushed both fingers into himself, sliding fluidly with just the right amount of lubricant, then began scissoring them to stretch himself. The hand that had braced him on the couch’s top slid down to Jonathan’s shoulder, bunching into the fabric of his flannel shirt, and Edward gently began rocking his hips, thrusting himself down onto his fingers and taking them in deeper.

Moaning and letting himself adjust to being opened up, he slipped in a third, then opened one eye to look down at he and Jonathan’s laps. Shuffling, spreading his knees a little wider, Edward halted his hip movement, lined he and Jonathan’s cocks up together and went back to rocking, his erection now rubbing against Jonathan’s as a result of riding his own digits.

Jonathan whimpered and covered his face with both hands, trying to resist making noise or looking or - or really  _anything._ Everything was devastatingly hot, everything was starting to hurt, he felt like he’d explode. Ironically, covering his face like that only made it worse, but he felt like looking at Edward right now would be a mistake on his part - a wicked,  _tempting_ mistake - and so he tried to resist.

Edward chuckled amidst the beginning of his panting, humming in delight at his own ministrations, and let himself bounce in Jonathan’s lap, simultaneously fingering himself and frotting with his boyfriend, who was still hiding within his hands. The hand that had grasped Jonathan’s shoulder went to his hair instead, nails digging into his scalp, and Edward increased the speed of his rocking with a tilt of the head and a moan.

“Jon,” he said amidst it, “oh,  _Jon…”_

Jonathan pressed his hands even firmer to his face, fighting himself to keep them there, sparks going straight down to his erection, and he ended up peeking out between his fingers to look.

Edward’s expression - the creased brow, shut eyes, lips set in an ‘o’ shape as he moaned - practically did it for him already, never mind what Edward was currently doing. The idea of watching Edward pleasure himself had never been something he’d thought of as particularly enthralling, not something he’d ever thought he’d want to watch; if anything, it felt like something he  _shouldn’t_ have been watching, as this was Edward’s private act reserved for when Jonathan couldn’t do the job for him. He felt like he was doing something taboo - but, well, he was a murderer, a thief and all-around arsehole, so what was one more taboo to add to the collection?

Another pained whimper escaped him as Jonathan set his hands on Edward’s hips to grasp them, trying to find something to do with himself, and Edward opened one eye to check on him. The look on Jonathan’s face made him smirk.

“Need it now, do you?” Edward asked cheekily.

“I’ve needed it fer the last hour or so,” Jonathan replied tiredly, making Edward give a pout of fake sympathy.

“You poor thing.” The pout gave way for the smirk. “But how lucky you are to have such a handsome, generous lover who’s willing to satisfy your pollen-induced cravings, eh?”

Jonathan grunted and rubbed his erection against Edward’s, making both men give little moans.

“Yes,” Jonathan heard himself confess without really thinking on it, “yer lovely, divine - oh,  _Edward…”_

Fuck this fucking pollen; he wasn’t even  _himself_ anymore.

Despite the sadistic amusement at his lover’s situation, Edward’s face fell into a deeper shade of red, his lips pursing in a silent coo of adoration. He never heard Jonathan saying such things to him; he could get used to it  _very_  quickly.

Edward batted at Jonathan’s shoulder to get him to stop his rubbing, then he lifted his hips, rising off of Jonathan’s lap, and slid his fingers out of himself. The hand that wasn’t half-covered in lubricant went to his breast pocket, pulling out the green handkerchief he’d stuffed in there earlier, and he wiped his fingers clean before pushing the cloth square back in.

Sliding backwards until he could kneel on the floor again, Edward reached for Jonathan’s boxers; the older male was quick to push himself up for Edward to remove them, which Edward did with a pull, down to Jonathan’s knees to join his jeans. When Jonathan’s cock stood to attention, practically glowing red and rock-hard, Edward’s eyebrows rose.

“Ooh,” he said, looking it up and down, no hint of amusement in his tone for once, “you really do need this, don’t you?”

Jonathan nodded frantically.

“Hm.” Edward rose off of his knees and pinched the tops of his own boxers, pushing them down and letting them pool around his ankles. He stepped out of them, set them down with the rest of his abandoned clothing, then climbed back into his partner’s lap.

A condom packet was collected from the pile, which Edward ripped open with his teeth, then he was pulling out the latex and reached down to roll it onto Jonathan’s erection. Another lubricant packet was plucked up between Edward’s index finger and thumb and he tore off one side, then drizzled the lubricant over Jonathan’s cock. With one hand, he smoothed the substance over his length, making Jonathan groan at the touch, and waited until he was fully satisfied before taking his hand away to wipe it clean again.

Empty packets set aside, Edward set his hands to Jonathan’s shoulders, lifted his hips up, lined up his hole over Jonathan’s cock, then carefully sat himself down, taking a third of Jonathan’s length before stopping to let himself adjust.

The act was met with a gasp from Jonathan, one of pure relief, and Edward moaned softly at the feeling of having his partner inside of him. Jonathan may have been an inexperienced lover compared to the others that Edward had had, but he was bigger, and Edward had never claimed that bigger wasn’t better in bed.

After a moment, Edward sank down lower, taking more of Jonathan’s length inside of him, and chose to stop only when he’d reached the hilt. The look on Jonathan’s face made him grin: he looked droopy again, but Edward knew this was because of relief, not the agony of earlier.

Edward kissed his forehead to comfort him, then braced himself upon Jonathan’s shoulders and lifted his hips again.

When Edward had ascended and descended three times each, he was much more comfortable with Jonathan’s girth inside of him and deemed this a good point to set a rhythm, and so began his bouncing in Jonathan’s lap, taking his cock in and out of him, a steady slide that - if they listened closely - produced a slight squelching noise.

Edward had already begun moaning, fingers bunched in Jonathan’s flannel shirt as he rode him, rolling his hips and bringing the head of Jonathan’s cock closer to his sweet spot.

Under him, Jonathan was trying to resist making noise, but couldn’t help the groans that escaped his lips every time his cock sank into Edward’s body; the heat was finally being seen to, his cravings beginning to be satisfied, his hands upon Edward’s waist as the younger male bounced on him, increasing his pace and the strength of his downward thrusts.

 _“Jon…!”_  Edward moaned as Jonathan’s cock struck his sweet spot, tilting his head back in full, exposing his throat completely. “Oh,  _Jon…!_  Oh,  _Jon…Oh, God, Jon - yes…!”_

Jonathan watched him closely, eyes following the way Edward’s Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed thickly, the creamy skin of his throat that Jonathan hadn’t even marked as the pollen had messed with their usual routine, how the colour looked so wonderful next to the deep purple of his shirt and the dark green and purple question marks of the collar and his dark brown hair, how it was being infiltrated by the soft red of Edward’s blushing. Jonathan’s eyes widened at the sight of his lover in such a state, and the intolerable heat returned.

Watching this had the same effect on him as earlier, he was becoming drunk on Edward’s scent now - the musky cologne combined with the rising smell of sex - and Jonathan groaned in something that wasn’t pleasure and shook his head.

“No,” he gasped out, hands going to Edward’s hips and pushing.

Edward stopped his bouncing, looking down at Jonathan in surprise.  _“‘No’?”_

“No,” Jonathan repeated, pushing Edward off of his cock and pushing still until Edward was off of his lap and on his feet.

Jonathan scrambled to stand, stepping around Edward, turning him around, and he promptly pushed him back onto the couch in the same position Jonathan had been in, half-laying down and half-sitting up in the cranny where the sofa’s arm met its back.

As he did, he muttered to himself, “Too slow, too slow, too slow, not enough…”

Edward stared up at him with wide eyes, confused and startled, his lips set in a perfect ‘o’, and he watched as Jonathan completely disregarded the jeans and boxers around his knees and reached for Edward’s legs instead.

Jonathan lifted them up, bringing them to either side of his torso, just beneath the crooks of his armpits, and he hurried into the gap caused by their separation, grasping for Edward’s hips quickly and thrusting his cock back into Edward’s hole. He didn’t take any such precaution or baby steps; his entire length was pushed immediately in, Jonathan clenching his teeth and squeezing his eyes shut, while Edward threw his head back and yowled to the ceiling.

Too desperate and too caught up in finally getting what he needed, Jonathan set a harsh, rapid pace, thrusting into Edward with everything he had, rutting against him like a dog, leaning awkwardly against the couch as his grip tightened on Edward’s hips, holding him down in place for Jonathan to use as his own.

Edward’s volume had increased substantially, Jonathan thrusting into him like a wild animal; his fingers curled into fists at his sides, Jonathan’s hips hitting them as he thrust, and Edward got them out of the way by clinging to the couch instead. His toes curled at Jonathan’s sides, socked feet hanging in the air as his body rocked and shook with the force of his boyfriend’s thrusting. It hurt - of course it did, with Jonathan’s size and pace - but not as much as it was enjoyed, and Edward felt his face burn bright red as Jonathan had his way with him.

_“Oh, God! Jonathannnn, ahh! Oh, Jesus - Oh, Jon! Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God!”_

Jonathan had never been so quick during their sex; he was satisfactory, don’t get Edward wrong, he didn’t disappoint - but this? Why, this just brought to life every fantasy Edward had ever had where Jonathan held him down and made him scream - and all it had taken was some of Poison Ivy’s brand of aphrodisiac.

Feet joined together behind Jonathan’s back, Edward just barely managed to wrap his legs around his boyfriend to encourage this blistering pace and rough treatment; Jonathan was hardly paying attention anyway, face bright red, head tilted back, eyes squeezed shut and teeth still clenched as he thrust into him, groaning betwixt his closed jaws, the awkward position he was crouching in not at all putting him off - or, if it was, he didn’t show it at all.

Edward clung to Jonathan’s shoulders again, nails digging into the layers of his clothes, fingers curling in the top flannel layer, and he arched his back, head tilted right back so his neck followed the curve of the sofa’s arm. He was caught between keeping his eyes open and shutting them; every time he slid them open, they’d only open halfway, glazed over and far off, and would soon shut again as Jonathan thrust in.

Every movement of Jonathan’s hips brought with it a new sound from Edward’s lips, loud and pleasure-filled, tearing at his throat and snatching his voice from him. He wanted to beg Jonathan to touch his cock, but it didn’t seem as though the older male would listen, never mind actually go through with Edward’s request. Taking Edward’s cock in hand meant letting go of one of his hips, and that would mean Edward wouldn’t be as anchored down as he was right now, where he was in the perfect position for Jonathan to fuck him.

Ergo, Jonathan wasn’t going to stroke him, he knew, and so Edward opened one eye and reached down to take hold of his own erection himself, frantically pumping it. Try as he might, he couldn’t match Jonathan’s pace for long, which held the desperation of a man who had crawled through the desert and had finally found a place to drink.

With the stimulation on his cock, Edward’s cries of Jonathan’s name and the blasphemous expletives became unintelligible babbling and wordless moans and set off panting not unlike a tired dog, tongue resting upon his bottom lip as his head tilted back and his eyes squeezed shut.

The pace was so quick and the tension so thick, it wasn’t long before Edward was letting out an embarrassingly high-pitched cry of Jonathan’s name as he reached his orgasm, ropes of cum shooting out over his chest, narrowly missing the halves of his shirt that had been haphazardly laid out over his chest and bunched up at his sides. Thighs quivering, his legs fell from their place under Jonathan’s arms, struggling to stay together and hold their own weight.

While he panted and tried to calm himself, Jonathan was still thrusting frantically into him, making him give tired groans and little whimpers as he tried to keep his legs up for him. The older male was going for a minute more before he finally gave way, letting out a groan that was much louder and - like Edward’s - embarrassingly high-pitched, especially in contrast to what he’d usually give in this scenario, what with being so quiet in bed. The sheer relief of his orgasm finally hitting him, he almost fell on top of Edward as he grew still, having to hold himself up with both hands braced on the couch.

Both men panted tiredly, exhausted, sore and spent, then Edward found it in him to speak.

“Oh…Oh, my God…” Edward blinked twice tiredly, looking up at Jonathan’s sweat-coated face. “I always knew you had it in you, dear…God…You were even more ferocious than that time I accompanied you for your research…”

Jonathan made a noise in the back of his throat to acknowledge him, but had no response beyond that.

“And it only took some bloody pollen to bring it on…” Edward added, somewhat bitterly. He cleared his throat, then frowned. “I want some of that stuff.”

Jonathan puffed out a chuckle. “You gimme any more o’ that stuff an’ I’ll cut yer hand off…I ain’t ever goin’ through this again…”

“Shame,” Edward replied, shuffling to try and sit up the best he could with Jonathan still looming over him and balls-deep in him. He looked down at his chest with distaste, despite the relief that his release hadn’t stained his shirt, then looked up at Jonathan. “Did you want to separate any time soon or are you content to remain attached to me?”

Jonathan didn’t give the snark-fuelled response he was expecting; he was chewing his lip, looking down at where he and Edward joined, brow furrowed. He cleared his throat uncomfortably, face growing red in what was clearly embarrassment, and he said slowly, “Yeah…about that…”

“If you say you’re stuck,” Edward said seriously, “I will hit you.”

“No, no, nothin’ like that, it’s just…” Jonathan pulled himself out halfway, eliciting a little noise from Edward’s throat, and stared downwards. “I ain’t…yellin’ timber.”

Edward frowned and looked for himself: Jonathan was still very much erect.

Both men stared for a moment, then Edward said, “So not only does this pollen make you more excitable than I ever have, it makes you incapable of losing erections too.” He huffed and folded his arms. “I have never hated a woman more than I hate Pamela, I swear. And yes, I’m including my mother.”

After a moment, Edward stretched his back and cocked his head lazily at his lover. “Well. Looks like you’ll be needing my services for a bit longer, eh, dear?” He wiggled his hips, causing Jonathan to give a small noise from the back of his throat, then added, “We’re going to have to go to the bedroom, though; I fear I’ll break my spine if I stay in this position for another few rounds.”

Jonathan nodded, pulling out of him completely. He slid the condom off of himself, disposing of it in the nearby bin, and reached to pull his boxers and jeans back up, an easier method than keeping them around his ankles, and he wasn’t the type to run around the house without pants. He had to do so carefully, letting out a hiss of discomfort as his cock was tucked away again.

Edward took a moment to sit up, his arse sore, and he needed a helping hand from Jonathan to get to his feet. When he finally managed, he was quick to twirl around on the ball of his foot, ushering with the crook of a finger for Jonathan to follow him as he - still dressed in only his glasses, unbuttoned shirt and socks with their garters - sauntered over to the stairs.

“Bring the packets, while you’re at it,” he called over his shoulder, reaching the base of the staircase.

Jonathan’s gaze was glued to Edward’s hips, partially hidden by his shirt, and he made a small whimper in his throat as he had to remind himself to grab the pile of packets. When he’d gathered them in both hands, he scrambled to get after his boyfriend.

 

…

 

“Alright,” Jonathan said through his panting, nodding twice, “I am officially sated.”

Edward hummed into his pillow, the only thing safely left on their bed; the duvet and the other three pillows had been thrown off when it’d been decided they were in the way of the sex. Edward had only been allowed to keep this one because he was hugging it so tightly to himself whenever Jonathan took him from behind and almost ripping it in half by yanking on it when he was laid out on his back. Even the bed sheet had been pulled off at one corner, and that had been from Edward gripping it too hard.

Both heads of hair were complete messes - Edward’s had been pulled out of its slicked back style hours ago and Jonathan’s had reached a whole new level of scruffy - and their skin was bright red and sweat-covered. Edward’s glasses, shirt and socks had been discarded sometime after his hairstyle had been ruined, and Jonathan’s jeans and underwear had hit the floor as soon as he’d reached the bedroom. The t-shirt and flannel had joined them a couple of hours afterwards.

All in all, a very productive evening.

Jonathan cleared his throat awkwardly, tapping his finger against his chest thoughtfully. “Alrigh’,” he repeated, “one thin’ ta agree on: this stays ‘tween us. Don’t go laughin’ ‘bout it with yer chums over drinks or nothin’.”

He was certainly tired, Edward noted: his accent had thickened. Jonathan’s accent thickened considerably when he was drowsy; Edward couldn’t pretend it wasn’t endearing to hear such a thick drawl.

Edward looked at him out of the corner of his eye, then slowly raised his head and spat out a feather. “As if I would.”

“Right,” Jonathan replied, in a tone that made it clear he didn’t believe him, then eyed the feather with a raised eyebrow. “…Never made a man do that before.”

“Don’t I feel special?” Edward said cheekily, looking down at the damp spot where he’d been biting the pillow too hard. His voice was slightly hoarse from the calls and occasional screams he’d given out that evening, but he was a professional and would not be defeated so easily. He sighed through his nose and rested the lower half of his face into the pillow again.

“I meant it, though: don’t go tellin’ no one.”

“Are you really that embarrassed about getting infected with a plant-based aphrodisiac?” Edward asked, smirking at him in amusement. “How cute.”

“I ain’t  _embarrassed,_  it jus’ ain’t anybody’s business but our own.” Jonathan sniffed. “Ya make it sound li’e I’m alright with ya gossipin’ about us in any other context, which I’m not.”

“Oh, I don’t gossip often. Only when it’s worth gossiping about. If anything, I’m the ear that listens to my girls tell me about their unsuccessful dates, right before I return home to my very successful relationship.” Edward shrugged. “I’m fully aware you wouldn’t like me sharing the details of, say, what you’re packing down below and just what you’re capable of.”

“Hm.” Trusting that Edward would listen to him this time around, Jonathan was content to leave the topic there.

Edward, however, wasn’t. “I imagine Pamela knows, though - or she will, once she notices what you fell on.”

Jonathan groaned in exasperation, the first groan he’d uttered in hours that  _hadn’t_  been of ecstasy or pleasure. “Great…”

“So Harley might find out.”

“Oh, fer fuck’s sake…”

 _“Maybe_  Selina.”

“Ugh.”

“But other than them?” Edward waved a hand. “Nobody.”

“Great,” Jonathan muttered with a sigh and a shake of his head.

Choosing not to dwell on it, he shut his eyes and allowed his aching body to relax. His hips were sore and slightly numb from all the movement they’d given in the last few hours, his knees hurting from the kneeling he’d done (he was fairly certain there were indentions in the mattress) and his back stinging from where Edward had clawed at his skin. He wouldn’t be surprised if he had new scars back there; he wouldn’t have minded, they would look nicer than the ones he currently had.

Edward sighed next to him, sounding rather delighted despite the pain in his body. He shut his eyes to relax, looking much like a sleepy cat with the way he half-disappeared into that pillow, then he raised his head, rested his chin on the pillow instead, and happily announced, “I can’t feel my legs. Or my left arm.”

“Oh.” Jonathan opened his eyes to look at him. “…Sorry?”

“Oh, don’t you dare apologise,” Edward replied, equally as cheerful. “I had a fantastic time. We should do this again sometime.”

“Hell no,” Jonathan said with a shake of his head. “I meant what I said when I told ya I never wanna go through this again.” He sniffed, then raised an index finger. “Think it goes without sayin’, too, that we ain’t havin’ sex again fer a while.”

Edward sighed through his nose. “Normally, I’d consider that a travesty and would make my complaints heard, but I’ll have to agree with you on that, dear. At least, until I can feel my lower body again.” He raised his head to look over at his bedside table; the drawer had been pulled entirely out, now laying upon the floor on its side. Edward tipped himself slightly to look down at it over the bed’s side, hissing in pain as he did so, then he plopped his head back down on his pillow. “We’ll also have to buy more condoms and lubricant at some point. We’ve definitely used our entire supply.”

Jonathan grunted.

That pile of packets had only gotten them so far; Edward had had to sprint downstairs at some point to grab the rest from the second bathroom when they’d used the supply in the bedroom and discovered only two packets left in the condom box in the first bathroom.

“We’ll also have to do laundry as soon as possible. I fear I’ll get stuck to this sheet if I lay on it for too long.”

Jonathan made a faint noise of disgust.

Edward sighed through his nose again, then looked to Jonathan. “Well, I don’t know about you, dear, but I’m ready to sleep. Yourself?”

“Hm,” was Jonathan’s answer, a stiff nod alongside it. “What time s’it, anyways?”

Edward raised his head to look at the clock on his bedside table. “…Five am.”

“Jesus…”

“Mm.” Edward smirked cheekily at Jonathan. “When was the last time _you_ had sex for seven hours straight?”

“Never. I didn’t stay around a fella long enough fer that. Not tha’ I would manage anyhow.”

“So I am special.” Edward chortled, especially when Jonathan rolled his eyes. “I’ve always known, of course, but it’s nice to be reminded now and then.”

“Edward,” Jonathan said sternly, eyes now shut, “I’m tryin’ ta sleep.”

“Right, right.” Edward continued smirking as he nestled back into his pillow. “Would you like to share this?”

Jonathan opened an eye, saw Edward indicate the pillow, then shook his head and shut his eye again. “Be fine without it.”

Edward let out a displeased little “Hmph,” causing Jonathan to turn his head to look at him, eyebrow raised in a silent question.

“Give him seven hours worth of sex,” Edward was grumbling, “satisfy his cravings like the kind, generous lover I am, and he doesn’t even want to cuddle afterwards.”

Jonathan scoffed and rolled his eyes; he knew Edward was only half-serious (he really did quite enjoy being held after sex), but he still felt the need to chide him. “As if ya wan’ me ta touch ya after all o’ tha’. We’re both put-out, Ed.” He stretched, wincing as his sore hips were jostled, and shut his eyes again as he settled to rest. “I’ll hold ya later, when we both ain’t all sticky and worn out.”

“Hm.” Edward smiled. “Well, I was joking -”

“I know.”

“- but I’ll be holding you to that.”

“Course you will.” Jonathan reached out and scratched at Edward’s scalp with the fingers of one hand, earning himself a delighted purr. “Now get some shut-eye.”

 

…

 

It was three days later that Pamela would next receive a visitor to her greenhouse, and she couldn’t be more confused at who it was.

“What’re  _you_  doing here?” She barked in confusion at the man dangling by the ankle from a vine, just as Crane had done in his failed attempt at stealing from her. Seemed as though this one had tried the exact same thing - in that regard, she supposed it wasn’t _too_  surprising to see him here.

“I’m here to collect, Pamela!” Edward exclaimed, spitting when his tie dangled over his lips and tried to slip into his mouth. He batted it away with the hand that wasn’t keeping his bowler hat from falling off of his head, almost whacking himself in the head with his cane.

“‘Collect’?” Pamela repeated, then put her weight on one foot, leaning on one hip, as she folded her arms. “As in,  _steal_ that flower that your  _murderer_ of a  _boyfriend_  wanted?”

“Oh, like you haven’t dabbled in the killing arts yourself,” Edward replied sarcastically, then went on before she could rant about the difference between plants and humans, “I don’t care about that.  _I_  want that concoction Jon fell in the other day!”

Pamela raised an eyebrow, then scoffed. “You mean my special pollen?”

“The sex pollen, yes.”

“Not what I call it,” Pamela grumbled, then huffed. “I  _knew_  I was missing a sample - that was for Harley and I!”

“Ew.”

“And now Crane’s…” Pamela trailed off, then scoffed in disgust at the idea, knowing exactly what Edward was getting at. “You’re disgusting.”

“Excuse me?” Edward asked as he slowly turned, the vine that was dangling him spinning him ever-so-slowly, making him tilt his head to try and keep his eyes on Pamela. “Who’s the one who crafted such a thing?”

_“For Harley and I.”_

“I repeat: ew.”

“Not for you and Crane! That’s -  _ugh_  - That’s just  _disgusting.”_

“Touché.” Edward made eye contact as he slowly turned in the vine’s grasp. “If you made it for a relationship’s intimacy to blossom, as it were, regardless of who it was, then you must understand where I’m coming from! No pun intended.”

“Don’t be -”

“Seven hours, Pamela!” Edward exploded. _“Seven hours!_ He was an  _animal!_  I couldn’t get him off of me for  _ten minutes!_  You’ve heard of ‘taking someone’s breath away’ - he literally did! When he wasn’t taking me, he was humping me until I was ready to go again! I couldn’t  _move_  afterwards, much less  _walk!_  My hips are  _still_ a little bit sore! I’ve never  _seen_  Jon so excited, and I’ve pushed his buttons  _before,_ let me tell you! I’ve assisted in his research by scaring a man half to death, I’ve cooked him the best damn steaks he’s ever tasted, I’ve worn those particular outfits he likes me to wear just  _so_ he’d give me what I want! But that? That was something  _else!”_  His expression hardened into a frown. “And I  _want it.”_

Pamela had an expression of pure and utter disinterest by the time Edward was finished, staring at him like she wanted to be anywhere but right there, talking to him and listening to him talk. She waited until Edward had turned in a complete circle so she could address him properly again, then she replied, “No.”

“Pamela!”

“As if I would do  _anything_  for him after all he’s done.”

Edward knew exactly what she was referring to and promptly rolled his eyes. “Oh, let it  _go,_  it was ages ago -”

 _“No,”_  Pamela replied darkly, the jungle of green veins flaring up under the skin of her cheeks, and Edward shut up quickly, if only to spare himself of further plant-based torture. “He’s lucky to still be  _alive,_ and he’s  _only_  alive because  _Harley_  would  _hate me_  if I killed him.” (Thank God for Harley and Jonathan’s familial bond, though Edward would’ve still said he could’ve protected Jonathan from Poison Ivy.) “Don’t you dare even  _suggest_  I do a favour for that  _bastard.”_

Edward’s lips thinned, a few spiteful words of his own upon his tongue and ready to be fired at the witch. She wasn’t innocent herself and - while the incident she referred to had been serious, and Edward couldn’t deny that - he wouldn’t be silent as she insulted his partner like that. Before he could shoot her down verbally, however, Pamela was speaking again.

“Besides,” her tone was much less furious, and the green veins in her cheeks faded away, “why should I do anything for you? We’re not friends.”

“We are certainly not.”

“Soooo…?”

 _“So,_  our relationship doesn’t matter. My relationship with Jon, however, does. So,” he held out the hand holding his cane, wrapping his thumb around it so he could make a ‘come here’ gesture with his fingers, “gimme.”

Pamela stared at him for a few moments of silence, during which Edward got increasingly irritated and increasingly tired of the feeling of blood rushing to his head, then she sighed through her nose, tipped her head back and shut her eyes to calm herself. Her lips moved and - through some lip-reading - Edward could tell she was telling herself not to kill him, for Harley would hate her for it.

When she was satisfied and calm enough to move on, she looked at him again, straightening herself up, and waited until he’d spun around to face her again to speak. “Alright, look: I don’t have time to deal with you right now, Harley’s coming over and so I have things to do -”

“Ew.”

“Shut up - and she’d be upset if I killed you anyway. Something about ‘liking you’ or something. Whatever. With that in mind,” Pamela clicked her fingers and the vine promptly threw Edward to the floor beside her, “you can leave with your life and your limbs intact. Be thankful that I’m feeling generous today, otherwise I would’ve fed you to that flower your  _boyfriend_  wanted so badly.”

Edward yelped as he hit the ground, immediately pushing himself up onto one hand to try and spare his suit any damage. He didn’t entirely succeed and huffed at the dirt on his blazer, which he brushed at in determination as he rose to his feet, using his cane to support him.

Righting the hat on his head and giving Pamela a distasteful glare out of the corner of his eye, Edward said curtly, “Why,  _thank you,_ Pamela, for not feeding me to your overgrown weeds. I’ll make sure to count my blessings before bed tonight.”

“Watch it. Remember where you are, Nygma.”

“Oh, I remember, don’t you worry.” There was a moment; Edward cleared his throat. “…The pollen?”

“Get out.”

_“Pamela -”_

_“Out!”_

Edward huffed and went to leave, making his way toward the archway that led to the tunnel out of there; he used his cane to support him as he walked, and Pamela knew that wasn’t because she’d just had him thrown to the ground.

She promptly gave a noise of disgust.

When Edward was halfway down the tunnel’s length, he heard Pamela call to him, “And if I ever see you or your boyfriend in here again, you’ll be food for my poor, frightened babies!”

“Mm-hm, yes, alright, I’ll pop it on my calendar,” Edward yelled over his shoulder, giving a wave of his hand to dismiss her, then added in a grumble, “I’m sure  _Harley_  would  _love_  that, you poor excuse for a weed-whacker…”

A flower on his right suddenly snapped at his ankles and he yelped in shock, jumping back and away from it, making the ache in his hips flare up, and he heard Pamela laugh behind him.

Edward scowled, embarrassed, and straightened his bowler before giving a little  _“Hmph,”_  and pointing his nose up, shutting his eyes in a matter-of-factly expression as he continued walking.

It wasn’t until he was out of Pamela’s greenhouse, in the sunlight and fresh, open air, that Edward smirked and spoke again, certain that Pamela wouldn’t hear him now, “Besides, Pamela, you won’t be seeing  _Jon_  in there again…”

Reaching into his inner blazer pocket, Edward produced the head of a purple and white flower, its petals wide and pointed at the very tips and dotted with its own pollen. Edward twirled the plant in his fingers, smiling contently down at it; not out of appreciation for the plant, but out of pride for his own work.

He sighed happily. “I am just _too_  generous for my own good.”

Laughing out loud, he made his way home to claim his reward.


	8. Angry Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Not-so)Kinktober challenge, using Scriddler as the muse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Jonathan Crane/Scarecrow, Edward Nygma; mentioned Batman, Jonathan’s grandmother, Edward’s father.
> 
> Pairing: Jonathan Crane/Edward Nygma.
> 
> Warnings: NSFW content, light (consensual) violence, use of derogatory slurs; implied past child abuse.
> 
> Notes: Decided to take up the Kinktober challenge with my boys. I’m very much late because, to be honest, I didn’t know this was a thing. But, hey - learn something new everyday. Prompt responses will range from drabbles to full-on fics, depending on where the inspiration takes me. 
> 
> All material belongs to DC Comics (although, my interpretations of the characters are used). 
> 
> Extra summary: Jonathan isn’t happy after Edward’s riddles almost get them caught by Batman. Edward isn’t happy about being assigned the blame.
> 
> Extra notes: This one includes a fact about my Edward that, honestly, should have popped up before this. I was gonna save it for a later fic for extra laughs, but, really, I don’t think I can get away with not mentioning it anymore, so…fun fact about my Edward in this one.
> 
> Extra, extra notes: This took so long because I’ve never written this kind of prompt before. I only hope I did it justice.
> 
> Day Eight: Angry Sex.

“Well,” Edward said with a sigh, propping his hands upon his hips, “I’d say that was a success.”

For Jonathan, his casual dismissal of their recent blunder was the straw that broke the camel’s back, and he whipped his head up to look at his partner from where he sat upon the double bed within his hideout in the Narrows.

 _“‘Success’?”_  He snapped, drawing a lazy side-eye from his partner. “We’re damn lucky not ta be in Arkham right now. Jesus - if it weren’t fer me havin’ this hideout so close by, we  _would_  be in Arkham right now.”

“Hm.” Edward ran a gloved finger over the desk opposite the bed Jonathan sat upon, grimacing at the dust that came back. He rubbed the pads of his finger and thumb together to clean it off as he added, “When was the last time you cleaned this place? Or were even  _here?”_

“Does it matter? It’s temporary, jus’ for the night, so we know the  _Bat_  isn’t on our tails anymore.” He sniffed and pushed his hair out of the way of the glare he was directing to his partner, mask dangling from his other hand. “No thanks ta  _you.”_

Edward faltered, then turned to look at Jonathan, eyes wide with surprise behind his domino mask. He stared at him for a few moments, receiving an unwavering glare in return, then said slowly, “Hold  _on._  Are you - You’re mad at  _me?”_

“Oh, give the guy a medal…” Jonathan rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Smartest thing you’ve done all evenin’.”

“Why’re you mad at  _me?”_  Edward gestured to himself with a hand to his chest. “I haven’t done anything to spite you.”

“Oh, haven’t you?” Jonathan raised his eyebrows, looking like a disapproving teacher more than anything. He must’ve perfected the expression during his days at Gotham University. “Try again.”

Edward frowned. “I don’t  _have to;_  I haven’t  _done_  anything.”

“You left riddles, Edward.”

“As  _the Riddler_  does, yes.”

“And Batman almost caught us tonight - because of  _your_  riddles.” He scoffed and shook his head. “Fer God’s sake, Ed, you might as well have given him a goddamn map to our location. ‘X marks the spot the Scarecrow’s gonna rob’!”

Edward spluttered out nonsense, tripping over his words and trying to convey his thoughts in one go, then he put a hand to his chest and exclaimed, “I’m the  _Riddler!_  What do you  _expect_  me to do?”

“Nothing, except maybe  _not_  lead Batman to our goddamn  _location._  If it weren’t fer me remembering  _this_  place existed,” Jonathan gestured to the rundown apartment with one wave of the arm, “we would be in the Batmobile right now, getting sent straight off to  _Arkham!”_

Edward scoffed and turned his head away, pointing his nose into the air as he said haughtily, “Oh,  _please._  I would have worked a way out of it.”

“Oh, would you, now?” Jonathan asked patronisingly, cocking his head and narrowing his eyes at Edward. Now was not the time for Edward’s ego; Jonathan was already resisting the urge to tie him up, dangle him from a rooftop and leave a sign pointing him out for the Bat.

Then he would visit him in Arkham, just to rub salt into the wound.

“I would have.” Edward looked to him. “You ought to have more faith in me, dear. Have I not always pulled through in the end?”

Jonathan scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Ya mean after the initial fuck-up?”

Edward’s mouth opened in surprise, then he scowled. “I don’t - How dare you. I apologise, dear, but I’m afraid you’re mistaken. I’ve never  _‘fucked up’,_  I’m  _far_  too brilliant for such things.” He looked away. Jonathan had provoked him, he couldn’t blame Edward for now wanting to twist the knife, as it were. He muttered,  _“You,_  on the other hand…”

“’scuse me?” Jonathan snapped. “What was that?”

“Hm?” Edward looked back, eyebrows raised in fake surprise, covered eyes wide. “Oh, nothing.”

“No, go on, coward. Speak.”

Edward narrowed his eyes. “I don’t  _have_  a split personality, so perhaps I have less of an understanding, but wouldn’t you - dearest, darling, love of my life - classify Scarecrow’s little  _tantrums_  as  _‘fuck-ups’?_  Surely, you would. I do. I mean, if you had  _half_  of the control over him as he does over  _you,_  perhaps  _you both_  wouldn’t be at  _fault_  when we get caught by the  _Bat.”_  He scoffed and folded his arms. “Not to mention, your  _obsession_  over people’s reactions to your toxin. How many times have I had to pull you away from a scene because  _you_  couldn’t get your head out of your studies and know when to  _run?_  And your poor planning - I’m surprised you have any labs  _left,_  given how easily the Bat finds them. Wouldn’t you say  _that’s ‘fucking up’, darling?”_  He put a hand to his chest. “All  _I_  did was carry out my gimmick. Clearly, I am in the right, and you have no place in complaining.”

With a little  _“Hmph,”,_  he turned his head away, turning his nose up at Jonathan and smirking triumphantly. Perhaps bringing up past events was a bit far, but Jonathan deserved it. How dare he try and say Edward had fucked up? Edward Nygma was the Riddler! What else would the Riddler do but leave riddles? Jonathan knew what he’d been getting involved in when he and Edward joined forces - in both the professional and the romantic sense - and so he had no right to say Edward was wrong.

Edward was never wrong. He was a  _genius._

“Oh, you jus’ love yerself  _soooo_  much, don’t you?” Jonathan said with a growl. “Never in the wrong, are ya?”

“I’m glad you see my point of view,” Edward pretended to inspect his nails, despite wearing gloves, “it is a  _fact,_  after all.”

“You little son of a…Well, I’d expect you ta think that, with yer severe case of  _narcissism.”_

Edward frowned and turned to look at him. “Pulling out my Arkham file, now, are we? Go ahead. I have no problems with that.”

“Do you not?” Jonathan cocked his head. “Well, why don’t we discuss the overdramatic belief of yer genius, the desperate need fer attention and - oh, my  _favourite_  - the Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder?”

Edward’s calm demeanour immediately dissipated, arms falling to his sides and fists squeezing shut. “I do  _not_  have OCD!”

“Ohhh, yes, you do.” Jonathan smirked. “Very bad. Gotta eat on the green plate while I eat with the red, otherwise food’s all wrong. Can’t have mess, you’ll get dirty and contaminated. Pictures an’ figurines  _must_  be in order of when they were taken and/or purchased cause that’s the  _right_  way ta do things. You try to reduce yer anxiety by tappin’ and fidgetin’, but that hardly works. Oh, but that’s all jus’ scratchin’ the  _surface,_  ain’t it? We ain’t even mentioned the compulsion to leave riddles at the scene of yer crimes!”

“Don’t  _push it,_  Crane,” Edward said with a growl. “I do  _not_  have compulsions. There is  _nothing_  wrong with my brain!  _Yours,_  on the other hand…”

“Oh, there’s lots wrong with my brain, sure,” Jonathan shrugged, “but let’s talk about  _yours,_  Edward. I believe I recall a time when you swore you wouldn’t leave riddles anymore? Ha! There were  _two_  times, actually! An’ what happened both times?”

Edward gritted his teeth, squeezing his fists shut as his covered eyes narrowed.

“You went right back ta leavin’ riddles. Without even realisin’ it! Cause you got  _problems,_  Edward, that extend passed your inability to  _admit_  to said problems. And it was  _said problems_  that have led us here,” he gestured around them, “ta  _my_  hideout. Cause you can’t help yerself. You can’t  _stop.”_

“I don’t have  _problems,”_  Edward hissed. “There’s  _nothing_  to admit; my brain is  _perfect!_  I do not suffer from derangement nor mental illness - you’re all just intellectually inferior to me, you don’t understand genius when you see it!”

Jonathan scoffed. “Please. I ain’t got my achievements fer no reason. Fer God’s sake - you can’t even admit you’re autistic, and  _that_  isn’t even a goddamn  _problem.”_

“I am  _not autistic!”_

“There it is,” Jonathan waved a hand at him, “denial. Cute.”

Edward felt his blood boil, could hear his own heart pounding in his ears. His fingers ached from how tightly he kept his fists shut.  _“You_  have no place assessing  _my_  mental health when you couldn’t even hold a job down in  _Arkham._  Perhaps it’s  _you_  with the  _compulsive disorder,_  since you couldn’t stop yourself from  _experimenting_  on your  _patients._  You - you washed-up, deluded,  _insane_  ex-psychiatrist - couldn’t assess the mental health of a paper bag!  _Once again, Jonathan, I_  have proved who is the genius in the room, and it  _certainly isn’t you.”_

Jonathan stood up, expression crumpled up into a furious scowl. He stalked over to Edward and invaded his personal bubble, staring him down as he silently dared Edward to repeat himself. He couldn’t see Edward’s eyes behind his mask, but he knew when he was receiving one of the Riddler’s trademark smug stares, though that quickly fell into a glare as Jonathan approached.

The two men locked glares, silently daring the other to raise a hand to them, say something - just one more thing to push them over the edge, he fucking dared him.

Jonathan asked slowly, a growl in his voice, “…Are you challengin’ me, boy?”

Edward scoffed out a laugh and folded his arms. “Oh, I’m  _‘boy’_  again, am I? You haven’t called me that in ages.” He chortled. “Big man is trying to be intimidating, is he? Well, it isn’t  _working.”_

There came a loud  _smack_  beside Edward as Jonathan threw his mask down onto the desk to Edward’s left, the sudden sound making Edward flinch slightly, though he’d never admit to it.

He looked up at Jonathan as the Scarecrow slowly moved three steps toward him, forcing him backwards and against the wall, where a palm slammed to the wood by Edward’s head, and the Riddler refused to admit he flinched again, though he knew Jonathan had seen him do it, for one side of the good doctor’s lips perked up for a split second. They very quickly dropped back into their scowl, however, and Edward made sure his expression was equally as angry as he glared back, just to make sure Jonathan knew he wasn’t afraid.

“Are you  _challenging me, Edward?”_  Jonathan repeated through gritted teeth.

Edward held his gaze as he replied sharply, “I might be.”

Jonathan narrowed his eyes at him, caught between wanting to strangle Edward then and there or collecting some toxin from his belt and acquainting Edward with his fears. The latter was tempting, for Edward really was quite beautiful when he was scared, but his screams and pleas might’ve alerted the Bat or any other company to their location, and he wasn’t going to Arkham tonight. The strangling could be fairly quick and intimate and would stop him from letting out any more aggravating chatter, but it was very Scarecrow-like, and sometimes Jonathan preferred to do things the Crane way.

“Oh, for God’s sake.”

Jonathan barely registered Edward had spoken before the front of his shirt was grabbed in a gloved fist and he was wrenched downwards to Edward’s height, where he was kissed fiercely and hard.

Jonathan flinched and pulled back, breaking the kiss and unable to step away due to Edward’s grip on his shirt. He stared at Edward questionably, asking him silently what on earth he was doing, and only got a half-lidded look in return.

“What?” Edward asked sarcastically. “I thought you wanted a challenge. What’s the matter? Big man can’t rise to the occasion?” He scoffed out a laugh at the double meaning. “I’m not surprised. Not only are you old, but you are so exceedingly incompetent in this area of expertise that I’m shocked if you’d know how to -”

He was cut off when he was suddenly slammed against the wall by a hand on his chest, palm hard against his breastbone. The brim of his hat hit the wall before he did and so it was pushed downwards on his forehead, but was batted away and off of Edward’s head in an instant. His chin was snatched up in a tight grip, his head wrenched upwards to stop his natural instinct to look at the hand on his chest, and his mouth was crushed against Jonathan’s, awkwardly pursed due to the way Jonathan’s fingers squeezed his cheeks.

Edward let the kiss linger for a few seconds before he hit at Jonathan’s hands until his grip fell from Edward’s jaw, and Edward threw an arm around Jonathan’s neck, his hand flying into Jonathan’s ginger locks to grab a fistful and force his head in place.

Jonathan grunted against his mouth, the hand on Edward’s chest grabbing the knot of his tie and holding it tightly, establishing a fake control in making it look like he had just as much a say in where Edward positioned himself as Edward did, but it was obvious who was in charge here.

That wouldn’t do at all, so Jonathan wrenched the knot of Edward’s tie upwards, making Edward choke against Jonathan’s mouth, and he used the tie to turn he and Edward around so that it was Jonathan’s back facing the wall. His fist shoved against Edward’s chest until Edward stumbled back; Jonathan made him do so until he reached the bed, where Jonathan roughly shoved him.

Edward toppled backwards, falling onto the mattress, and bounced once as his body hit it. He looked up at Jonathan with an indignant look, receiving a wicked smirk in return that made it clear that Jonathan believed the ball was in his court, and Edward’s face fell into a scowl as he sat up and grabbed at Jonathan’s shirt again, pulling him down until he could slam his mouth to his partner’s.

Jonathan growled against his lips, using a hand to shove Edward down against the mattress again; Jonathan remained standing as he leaned over Edward, trying to press his head into the mattress with their kiss alone, and Edward squirmed under him. He wasn’t as strong as Jonathan, so he wasn’t successful in his attempts at turning the tides - not until, at least, he got a fistful of Jonathan’s hood and yanked.

Jonathan gagged as his head was wrenched backwards, the hood pushing against his throat, and Edward saw the perfect opportunity to not only flip them, but to throw Jonathan down onto the bed beside where Edward had laid.

 _“Fuck,”_  Jonathan hissed out as his back slammed into the mattress, and Edward wasted no time in climbing up and straddling his hips, grinning savagely down at him.

“Whoever said I would be useless at wrestling, eh?” Edward asked cheekily.

“Everybody,” Jonathan said sharply before grabbing Edward by the tie, forcing him not only back into another crushing kiss, but back onto the mattress as Jonathan undid what Edward had done and flipped them back over. Jonathan took his lips from Edward’s with a ‘pop’ and said, “And everybody was  _right.”_

Edward growled through gritted teeth and launched himself at Jonathan again, using his hood once more to flip them.

They went back and forth then, Edward using Jonathan’s hood and Jonathan countering by using Edward’s tie, until Jonathan leaned back and used one hand to wrestle his hooded half-poncho off of himself with a hissed,  _“Fuckin’ -”_  and then Edward had no anchor with which to pull Jonathan here and there. He really had no choice then but to counter by getting a hand against Jonathan’s face, shoving him away as he hurriedly undid his tie with his free hand, wrenched it free from his collar and threw it away before Jonathan could use it again.

Jonathan growled and thought quickly, grabbing for the rope tied around his costume’s torso and pulling it free to wrap it around Edward’s wrists, but Edward shoved him away again and got him onto his back, where he quickly straddled the doctor and ground his arse against Jonathan’s clothed cock.

Jonathan growled and Edward grinned. The Riddler reached for his inner blazer pocket to pluck out the square packets he kept in there, collecting just one packet of easily-portable lubricant before Jonathan’s right hand shot out and grabbed Edward’s right shoulder, using the diagonal angle to push Edward off of him and back down onto the bed, where that arm was put across Edward’s throat and he was held down.

Edward regarded him with wide eyes of surprise, but he made no indication that the Bat-Signal was on and so Jonathan didn’t hesitate as he leaned down and used his teeth to rip his glove from his hand, if only to make it easier when that free hand grabbed one side of Edward’s shirt and yanked, ripping the shirt open and pulling a button or two out of place. This revealed Edward’s toned stomach, and Jonathan spat out his glove and quickly descended upon the naked flesh, biting and sucking at the skin of Edward’s tummy.

Edward couldn’t suppress the groan that escaped him as Jonathan marked his stomach, sneaking his hand up Edward’s shirt to push the rest of the shirt open instead of pulling. His arm let up from Edward’s throat so he could wrench the shirt fully open with both hands, where his mouth quickly latched onto the skin of Edward’s chest and collarbone, finding his way upwards to Edward’s throat, where his Adam’s apple was bitten at and his pulse was located so it could be sucked on.

The Riddler gasped and moaned lowly and was tempted to remain submissive so Jonathan could keep doing that, but that would be letting Jonathan win and Edward could never do that, so Edward used a fistful of Jonathan’s hair to wrench his lover off of himself.

Jonathan made a noise between a growl and a yelp as he was picked off; Edward rolled them over and scoffed, toeing off his shoes as he straddled Jonathan’s hips.

“I’m not  _alone_  in that feeling, Crane,” Edward said warningly and grabbed at Jonathan’s second belt, undoing it and having no regard for the containers of fear toxin, chloroform and knockout gas pellets attached to it as he tossed it over his shoulder. If anything shattered, neither man noticed, especially not when Edward snatched at the hem of Jonathan’s shirt and forced it upwards to reveal his chest.

Setting out to prove his point, Edward flew down and immediately took one of Jonathan’s nipples into his mouth, suckling on it and swirling his tongue around the areola, feeling the nub harden against his lips.

Jonathan gasped and let out a moan beneath a breath, despite his best efforts. He slapped his hand over his mouth and bit down upon his own gloved finger to resist further noises. His thighs rubbed together underneath Edward, his heels finding the edge of the mattress and using it to pull his boots off, hearing them thud against the wooden floor.

Edward wrestled himself out of his blazer, letting it fall to the floor with he and Jonathan’s shoes, without taking his mouth from Jonathan’s nipple. He sucked on it hard, moaning against it so Jonathan could feel the vibrations on his skin, then he pulled back and blew air down upon it, letting it go cold with the combination of saliva and breath.

Jonathan groaned and Edward moved over to the other one to give it the same treatment, though that one missed out on getting air blown upon it, as Edward chose instead to wrench Jonathan’s shirt off. With it went the straw stuffed into the sleeves and chest and Edward breathed a sigh of relief at no longer having the little sticks jabbing at him.

Edward’s mouth travelled upwards from Jonathan’s chest to his neck, the side of which he began to mark as he sucked at the scarred skin, but Jonathan was grabbing his hair and pulling him off then.

“Like  _hell,”_  he heard Jonathan snap as they were flipped once more.

Jonathan used his hair to set his head at an angle where Jonathan could suck and kiss at his neck, marking it with purpling bruises that made Edward moan and move his hands up Jonathan’s chest, pinching his nipples with fingers and thumbs that were still gloved.

Jonathan growled against his skin and used his right hand to grab one of Edward’s braces, pulling it from Edward’s shoulder, automatically loosening his trousers just slightly. It certainly wasn’t much, but it was dubbed enough by Jonathan to - after biting off his other glove and spitting it away - shove his hand into Edward’s trousers and palm and rub at his cock.

Edward gasped and threw his head back, moaning, “Oh,  _God.”_  He shoved his other brace off of his shoulder and reached down to frantically unhook the bar on his trousers, letting them open properly and giving Jonathan all the space he needed to grab at Edward’s cock.

“Yeah,” Jonathan said against his jaw, lips skimming the skin as he growled against it, his voice coming out gravelly and firm and terse, “you like that, don’t you?” His fingers found the shaft of Edward’s now erect cock and tightly wrapped around it, pumping him in his boxers.

Edward whined, stuck between being satisfied at the handjob and stifled by his underwear and trousers still being on. He moaned loudly at Jonathan’s touch, resisting the urge to thrust his hips up into it, if only because he was remembering this was a fight they were in. A fight for dominance; he couldn’t let Jonathan believe he was in charge here.

“Yer a goddamn disgrace, Nygma,” Jonathan went on roughly, speaking into Edward’s ear now. “Even the Bat must hear you right now, the little  _whore_  that you are. Ain’t that what you are, Nygma? With yer little clues and questions an’ throwing yerself at me? Not just a whore for attention, but a whore in  _general._  Maybe  _that’s_  yer real compulsion: bein’ a goddamn  _slut.”_

“Oh, God,” Edward murmured during a moan.

If this had been any other evening, he might’ve begged Jonathan to keep dirty-talking him, he  _never_  dirty-talked him like that, he wanted more and more and more. Jonathan’s voice was so deliciously rough and his accent made Edward’s blood boil. Had they not had their argument, had this been any other session, he would’ve said yes, he would’ve told him he was Jonathan’s whore, he would’ve promised to only be his.

But this wasn’t any other session, this was now, and Edward wouldn’t claim to be the only whore in the room.

Edward grabbed hold of Jonathan’s arm, stopping its stroking of his cock, and put all of his weight and strength into flipping he and Jonathan over while keeping Jonathan’s hand on his dick.

Having his hand stuffed into Edward’s boxers put his wrist at an awkward angle and Jonathan hissed in pain, but Edward ignored that and glared down at him.

“Look who’s talking,” Edward snapped, then slapped his hands to Jonathan’s chest and put his weight on them as he slid downwards, the movement naturally pulling Jonathan’s hand from his genitals. He descended upon Jonathan’s crotch, mouthing at his cock through his trousers and boxers.

Jonathan gasped and went to reach for Edward’s head to push downwards or play with his hair, but he forced himself to resist. His fingers shook, hands hovering over Edward’s head, then he laid back and brought his finger to his mouth to bite on again.

Edward hummed in satisfaction against his dick, not seeing Crane wrestle with himself but knowing what he was doing. He used both hands to tug Jonathan’s trousers down, letting his half-hard cock free, and Edward quickly took half into his mouth to begin bobbing his head and sucking and licking at the tip.

Jonathan had to cover his mouth with both hands to muffle the moan that left him, his cock hyper-sensitive as it grew to full hardness in Edward’s hot, wet mouth. The Riddler’s tongue attacked the tip of his cock, licking up any pre-cum that threatened to show itself, while his lips easily glided up and down Jonathan’s shaft as he bobbed his head at a quick pace.

“Oh,  _fuck,”_  Jonathan said into his hands, making Edward smirk around him.

“That’s right,” Edward said as he pulled his lips off with a ‘pop’. “Not the only whore here, am I? Arguably, good doctor, you’re worse than I am.”

Jonathan looked down at him, not quite questioning despite being curious of Edward’s logic, more silently expressing how much he’d like to have Edward’s lips not flapping, but encompassing his cock again.

“I thought you were supposed to be raised as a good, Christian man,” Edward said matter-of-factly, “but you’re not, are you? No - you’re just a dirty, old man. A filthy-minded, old  _whore.”_  He scoffed and regarded Jonathan with a half-lidded look that was downright evil. “What  _would_  Grandmother say?”

Jonathan’s face fell into a scowl, the past blowjob long forgotten. “Well, I dunno, Edward,” he said tersely, then cocked his head, “what would  _Daddy_  say?”

Edward’s expression was momentarily of surprise, then he too scowled. He went to reply, make some crude comment where he gave Jonathan the title of ‘Daddy’ (who  _knew_  how he would react to that?), but his gaze flicked over to the packet laying amongst the sheets of the bed.

Jonathan looked over, spotted the packet of lubricant, then looked back to Edward.

They stared at each other for a second, then both scrambled in unison to grab at the packet. Jonathan rolled over onto his belly, which threw Edward off of him and sent him stumbling, then Edward was clawing at the sheets to get himself back onto the bed proper. In his kicking to push himself back onto the mattress, Edward’s trousers loosened and one leg came free from them.

Where Jonathan went to collect the packet, Edward used his yanking at the sheets to pull the little square over, taking it from Jonathan’s path and causing him to double-take and go scrambling for it all over again.

“Give it here!” Jonathan commanded.

“It’s  _mine!”_  Edward replied in the same manner as both shoved and scratched and smacked at one another to get the little packet. “You’ll break it!”

“Yer’ll fuckin’ break it!”

Eventually, it came out with Nygma having snatched the packet from Crane’s path. When he did, he held it up and knelt on the bed by Jonathan’s hips, grinning menacingly at him, panting from the exertion of their wrestling each other, his hair mussed up.

“Aha!” He exclaimed, brandishing the packet, then raised his left hand to bite at the tip of his glove’s middle finger and pull the leather from his hand.

Jonathan saw the chance to attack, but Edward threw the glove at his face, the leather making a  _smack_  as it hit Jonathan square between the eyes.

“Ah -  _Jesus,”_  Jonathan muttered, flinching as it hit him; Edward might’ve laughed hysterically in any other situation and apologised, but he hadn’t the time nor the heart to do so in these circumstances.

Instead, Edward got up, standing beside the bed to frantically kick and wrestle his other leg out of his trousers, then he was shoving his boxers down far enough to free his cock. While doing so, he bit off his other glove and threw it at Jonathan again to stop another attempt at interrupting him, prompting Jonathan to exclaim, “Stop that!”

Edward chuckled and ripped open the packet of lubricant, quickly squeezing it out entirely onto his fingers. As Jonathan sat up to throw Edward’s gloves on the floor, Edward approached and straddled Jonathan’s hips, forcing him to lay back down, Jonathan’s legs dangling off the bed, socked feet pressed to the floor.

Their sex was too rushed and too rough for penetration tonight; Edward would never allow himself to be laid down and fingered, and rolling over as suddenly as they had been doing would prove difficult - if even a bit painful - with Jonathan’s cock in his arse, so another approach was to be taken instead.

Edward brought his cock to Jonathan’s - thinner and not as long as Jonathan’s, but still impressive, Jonathan just got all the luck when puberty came to town - and smothered both in lubricant, drawing out gasps and moans from both gentlemen, then he kept his hand wrapped around their cocks as he began to thrust his hips, frotting with his boyfriend.

Edward immediately began to moan, as was the usual when he and Jonathan had sex. He was naturally talkative and loud in bed, so it was no time at all before the room was filled with mostly his noises.

_“Jon, Jon - oh, Jon -”_

Jonathan groaned, looking down at their cocks as they slid over each other; not only was the friction delicious, but there was something else to enjoy about Edward’s cock rubbing against his like this. He hadn’t expected it, but feeling the green barbells embedded in Edward’s frenum rubbing against his own shaft was oddly pleasuring, the pressure of the little metal balls pushing down onto his skin. Not to mention playing with the piercing made Edward feel so good as well, having it tugged and rolled over fingers and thumbs - he’d have to remind himself to treat Edward later.

He’d been judgemental of Edward’s genital piercing when he’d first discovered it, back when he’d given Edward a handjob after Edward had given him the best blowjob he’d ever had - their first sexual encounter together - and could confess that he’d only managed to stare at it as Edward scoffed and called him silly for being so surprised. Hadn’t he ever been with a man with a pierced penis before?

No. No, was the answer, but Edward was the source of a lot of first-time sexual experiences for Jonathan, so he might as well have added ‘pierced dick’ to Jonathan’s ever-growing list as well.

It took Jonathan an embarrassingly long time to realise being on the bottom like this, however used he was to it when he and Edward frotted, and doing nothing was basically being submissive and taking it.

“Oh, hell no,” Jonathan growled out as he grabbed Edward’s hips roughly in both hands, fingers digging painfully into Edward’s flesh. He practically halted Edward mid-thrust and used this moment to thrust his hips upwards, now forcefully sliding his cock against Edward’s, into Edward’s fist. He was now controlling their pace and strength, and Edward leaned his head back to moan as Jonathan made sure to press against his piercing and tease it.

Edward panted and went to bounce in Jonathan’s lap, half-tempted to tell him to take him properly, he suddenly had the urge to ride his boyfriend’s cock, but he held strong and growled, thrusting right back at Jonathan despite the hands on his hips trying to stop him. Admittedly, they held strong, so Edward used his free hand to punch at them until at least Jonathan’s right hand let him go.

The bed shook and the mattress squeaked with their combined thrusting; much as Edward would have like making the headboard hit the wall, they were still sideways on the bed and the posts weren’t close enough to the wall to slam against it with their sex.

Jonathan’s right hand slid up Edward’s chest and found a nipple, pinching it roughly and making Edward let out a high-pitched moan at the sudden pain, and Jonathan took advantage of the moment to use his left hand to push Edward off of him and onto the bed beside him.

Jonathan scrambled to get on top, pushing Edward’s legs open and inserting himself between them, aligning their cocks once more and thrusting wildly against him, rutting like some horny animal. Toes pressed awkwardly into the floor, he leaned over Edward with his impossibly long torso, one hand pinning Edward’s wrist to the mattress, the other digging into the sheets by Edward’s head.

Edward tilted his head back and moaned loudly, grabbing for their cocks to wrap them both in his fist again, pumping them as Jonathan thrust. He growled at Jonathan and thrust upwards as Jonathan had done, making the older man gasp, and Edward only made him gasp louder as he suddenly leapt upward and bit into Jonathan’s shoulder. It hurt his back to do it, but Jonathan’s moan was worth it.

When Jonathan slowed his thrusts so Edward could bite even more, Edward flipped them and Jonathan cursed at being tricked, then they were back to their frantic thrusting.

When Jonathan slipped a hand up into Edward’s hair and grabbed a fistful to yank his head down, lips ascending onto Edward’s neck to suck another hickey into it, Edward was distracted enough to be flipped again, and the fist remained in his hair as Jonathan slammed their hips together.

They tossed and turned several times, taking advantage of hair-pulling and skin-biting and open-mouthed, wet, breathy kisses that were really more teeth than lips to distract each other enough to attack. Sweat clung to their skin and wet their remaining clothes - Jonathan’s trousers just barely clinging to his thighs, Edward’s shirt crumpled against his torso and his boxers sagging down, his domino mask damp against his face, their socks making them slide on the floor when their toes touched it and tickling the other’s back when legs momentarily wrapped to bring the other closer - and they shared breaths and moaned and muttered blasphemous curses as their skin slid over and over, creating a delicious friction that, after remaining between them for at least ten minutes more, brought about two pleasured and desperate cries.

Edward almost collapsed onto Jonathan’s chest, trembling hand still loosely clutching he and Jonathan’s cocks, which were already beginning to soften. His index and middle fingers were coated in hot cum, while the rest had spurted out onto Jonathan’s tummy and chest.

Both men panted and came down from their highs, both tiredly shutting their eyes and tempted to fall asleep then and there. Edward slid off of Jonathan, coming to lay down beside him, nearer the pillows, leaving Jonathan in the crumpled mess of sheets they’d left in their wake.

Jonathan didn’t have any qualms about this, mainly because he was too busy staring upwards at the ceiling, greying hair a mess from where Edward had clawed at his scalp and used his hair to pull him around. His mouth open as he panted, his eyes were wide with astonishment and wonder at himself.

What had come  _over him?_  He’d never gotten like that before. One second, he was wanting to strangle Edward, the next…

“What…” Jonathan said amidst his panting, “What just  _happened?”_

Edward hummed, his panting mainly accomplished via his nose. “We, dearest, just had sex to settle an argument.” He looked to Jonathan out of the corner of his eye. “I won, by the way.”

Jonathan immediately frowned, his confusion and bafflement over his own sexual attitude already forgotten. “Like hell you did. You came first.”

“I did not! You did.”

“No, you did.”

“I think you’ll find you did.”

“Fuck off. You did.”

“You did.”

“You did. This?” Jonathan looked down at his stomach, gesturing to the white mess splattered on his skin with both hands. “This is  _aaaalllll_  you.”

“It most certainly isn’t,” Edward said primly, giving the mess a half-lidded look as he turned his nose up at it. “…Not all of it, anyway. It wasn’t like I was aiming anywhere; you distracted me.” 

He sat up to grab for his blazer, picking it up to reach into the inner pocket to collect the packet of tissues he kept in there, being careful not to wipe the mess on his fingers on his coat. Edward picked out a tissue and wiped his fingers clean, then picked out another to hand to Jonathan.

“Oh, yeah, cause you always aim.” Jonathan scoffed and shook his head, taking the tissue from him and wiping his chest and tummy. He was handed another when one tissue didn’t cut it, then Jonathan balled them both up and tossed them to the floor. He stretched his limbs, feeling them pop, and sighed through his nose.

“Let’s not start another fight,” Edward said through a sigh, putting a backwards hand to his forehead dramatically. “I can only take so much winning in one day.”

“Edward…”

“Hush.” Edward rolled over and settled his head against Jonathan’s collarbone, throwing one leg over both of Jonathan’s, which still hung off the bed, his toes touching the floor. “Hold me now, would you?”

Jonathan narrowed his eyes at him, but nevertheless wrapped his arm around his shoulders.

Fine. He would allow the truce to live for now - but Edward had better be prepared for when they got home. Home was, after all, where the riding crop was.


End file.
